Learn to love (traduction de Apprendre à aimer)
by elise.coclet
Summary: Skye, 12 years orld, has already gone through 22 host families. Now, and as so many times before, she's back at Saint Agnes. But she enters a new school, where she will learn the value of friendship and trust, as well as the definition of the word family ... a school where she will learn to love. Completely Au. [Forgive the mistakes, I'm French.]
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

St. Agnes's orphanage was an austere and dark building. It was located on the outskirts of the city of Chicago, in the middle of a large forest that seemed restful during the day, but at nightfall lost all its semblance of charm and became more terrifying. Once past the heavy wrought iron gate, surmounted by the name of the place in large rusty letters, "St. Agnes Catholic Orphanage", we entered officially the perimeter of the establishment, surrounded by grids that were lost further in the woods. It was then necessary to go up a long alley lined with big green trees in summer and skeletal in winter. The orphanage could be seen from a distance and gave off an aura of severity and disuse. Although it was quite large, it usually housed between 200 and 240 children, aged 0 to 18, but it was falling apart, mainly because of lack of funds. It must be said that he was over 200 years old. The facade cracked on both sides, and the ivy was frolicking happily, even on the dirt-impregnated windows. Furthermore, if the place was creeping you out when you looked from the outside, inside it was a hundred times worse. Atmosphere horror movie.

One thing was certain: Skye wasn't happy to return to this place she knew by heart. She was only twelve years old, but she had spent most of her young life here, except when she was away, in various host families she had always left. She must have recognized - despite herself - that this damn building was the closest thing to a house. A creepy house, however.

Skye winced in the back of the car that brought her back to the place she cursed. Her head resting on the window since she got in the car, she had been in her thoughts all the way. At the front, Mr Baker had said nothing, just looking at the road. It was not worse. Skye had only been in his home for a month, and she didn't like him. As a rule, she loved no one and no one loved her. A fact which had stopped touching her long time ago. At least she was trying to convince herself. She was hoping for nothing and it was better like that. To hope for something and to lose it was worse than never expecting anything, a lesson she had learned relatively early. Anyway, if Mr. Baker had never touched her, or tried to hurt her, he was easily angry and had trouble controlling his emotions. For four weeks he ran into the girl's silence and cold anger. He had finally reached his limits.

The car stopped in the gravel yard, squealing tires, pulling her out of her thoughts. She didn't wait another second and unhooked the seat belt. She opened the door and went down, grabbing her simple black backpack as she passed. Mr. Baker imitated her and walked to the entrance, motioning for her to follow, his face closed. She raised her eyes to the sky.

"Woof woof," she grumbled, following him nonetheless.

She had barely passed the wooden doors that she felt her shoulders grow heavier. She took a deep breath, detailing the dismal and decrepit entrance. Sister Anne, who was passing, a pile of linens in her hand, blinked as she stopped.

"Mr Baker? What are you doing here, is there a problem with Mary Sue?"

Skye suppressed a grunt at the name agreement that the sisters had given her when she was only three months old, the day she was placed here. Mary Sue Poots. Seriously! Skye didn't know what they had smoked that day, but it must have been really good to think about naming a little girl Mary Sue Poots. Whatever.

"I bring her back to you," said the man simply, as if her was only a faulty object that he was giving back to the seller.

Sister Anne narrowed her eyes and directed them to the girl, implicitly asking what she had done again. Skye rolled her eyes and folded her arms. Of course, everything was still her fault. The cold young woman put her linen on a dresser and asked the man to follow her.

"You're waiting there," she ordered to Skye.

"At your orders," she mumbled, letting herself fall heavily into a chair in the waiting room.

She didn't have to wait a long time, the few minutes it took for the man to fill the papers officially discharging the burden she was. She saw him leave without giving her a look.

"Come, Mary Sue!" sister scolded from her desk.

In a very mature way, Skye tilted her tongue towards the voice before getting up. Once inside, she raised her eyebrows as she closed the door.

"You'd better correct your attitude right now, Mary Sue", sister Anne said slowly.

"Or what?" she replied.

Sister Anne sighed but didn't reply and pointed to the seat in front of her.

"Take a seat."

Skye obeyed after a second of hesitation. The woman stared at her for a few seconds in silence; Skye could feel that she was angry.

"It was your fourteenth foster family, Mary Sue. Your chances are dwindling. You have to correct your attitude. Mr. Baker told me about your insolence, your lack of respect and your coldness. If you don't make an effort, you will never find a family, Mary Sue. You really have to calm down. For the moment, you stay here, but I warn you: if the next family that welcomes you brings you back to us with such comments, you will go to a correctional house, which would not be worse for me."

Skye clenched her teeth. She had spent two months in a recovery center when she was 8 years old and was therefore well placed to know that it was really unpleasant. She tried to calm her breath and breathed, with a defiant look on her face. Sister Anne looked at her, shaking her head, mumbling that she had the devil in her, and then she put away the teenager's file and reached out her hand.

"Your bag."

Skye gave it to her. The rules of the orphanage were very strict and stipulated among other things that most of the things considered "not necessary" offered by host families were systematically confiscated when the children returned to the orphanage, so that everyone would be equal and that it doesn't generate jealousy. Spiteful, Skye saw Sister Anne steal the MP4 and Mr. Baker's ear buds, along with a bunch of sweets and school supplies she thought she could do without (which included several brightly colored pens, among others, she loved, as well as her crayons and her markers). Then she handed her her bag, ignoring the wet eyes of the teenager who considered the process humiliating and cruel.

"Standing", she ordered.

She got up and the woman examined her from head to foot.

"Your sneakers", she said.

They were new. Mr. Baker had bought them to her because the school he had sent her to had required shoes in better condition than the old, faded pair of holes she still had. Skye frowned and eyed the shoes she loved. They were blue and black, and much more comfortable than the others, who were spinning bulbs.

"You know the rules, Mary Sue", sister Anne snarled.

The girl sighed without trying to hide her insolence, but she resigned herself to taking off her shoes without leaving the sister's eyes and without hiding her anger.

"Good," said the sister dryly. You will be able to reinstall yourself. Room 207. You'll start school tomorrow, but not with others, considering what happened last time you were here."

Normally the children of the orphanage had classes at the local school, which was about twenty minutes walk. The students went with two sisters who came to pick them up at evening. Skye hated this school of arrogant bumps that kept beleaguering Saint Agnes' "without families" and "unwanted". She had been to a lot of schools but this one was the worst, and she was glad she didn't have to go back.

"Where am I going?" she asked.

"At Roosevelt Junior High School, a public school thirty minutes from here. You will go there and walk home alone, since we will not assign you a sister just to accompany you. It is in your interest to return at the end of the class, except if you have a particular excuse such as a support class or a group assignment for example. It's clear?"

"Like rock water," the girl quipped, her throat tied.

Sister Anne dismissed her after giving her the plan to go to school, and Skye pulled her bag across the building onto the girls' second floor. She had just left the stairs when a girl a little taller than she shoved her, sending her to the ground. Her wrist hit the wall and she moaned in pain as she looked up. A new groan escaped her when she realized who had jostled her. Lorelei the manipulative plague of service, and her clique of degenerates who treated her like a celestial queen. It was almost hilarious. And resolutely pathetic.

"Are you back, Mary Sue Poots?" inquired the big perch, mocking. "Nobody wants you, right? And unfortunately, we must still stare your face of dirty half-Asian!"

Skye got up and dusted her oversized T-shirt with holes, ignoring the tightness of her wrist. Eyes down, she picked up her bag and tried to get through the group of sluts, without success, because Lorelei pushed her away immediately. She struggled not to fall again and decided that she had enough. Unfortunately, self-control was not one of her qualities-if she had even one quality, which was far from being the case according to the nuns.

"I think you're there too, right? Looks like nobody wants you either, and you're fifteen. In other words, you're done, right?"

Skye knew that replying would only get her into trouble, but she couldn't help it. Lorelei raised her arm and slapped her. Skye felt her head go to the side and her lip burned. She felt the metallic taste of blood invade her mouth. She closed her fists and retorted pushing the redhead. Lorelei stumbled and banged her head against the wall. She sat down and Skye saw that she had opened her forehead.

"What is happening here?" asked a voice.

Sister Beatrice came down and covered the scene with her eyes.

"Mary Sue? Can I know what you have done yet?" she accused.

"We only wanted to ask her why her foster family brought her back," Lorelei whined, "but as soon as I greet her, she ran to me and hit me."

The others hastened to confirm her version. Sister Beatrice turned her head to Skye. The teen shrugged her shoulders, not trying to defend herself. It never changed anything, the majority of sisters didn't believe her, considering her as a "bad seed", a girl with problems, impulsive and always causing trouble. Sister Beatrice didn't escape the rule. Without taking into account the girl's slit lip, she deprived her of lunch and dinner and dismissed her in her room for the rest of the day. Skye squeezed her lips and left without a word, refraining from saying that she didn't care. As a rule, she didn't eat much.

She arrived in the room she shared with five other girls and sat on the bunk bed, the bottom one, available at the back of the room. She unpacked the little things she had to put them in the locker under her bed. Then she spent the next hour dislodging a slat next to the locker to hide the only precious items she held. If the sisters took away almost everything, the objects bequeathed by the biological parents to the babies who arrived here were left to them. It was usually swaddling, or a word, or jewellery. For Skye, it was a mint green blanket, a gold pendant key and a teddy bear. She had to hide them on each of her returns, otherwise the other children would steal her.

This done, she sat down on the bed and watched the room, obviously far too small for six people. She sighed, empty-minded. She was tired. Her nightmares had kept her awake last night. She felt weary and tired, and unable to think, which in her case was not such a bad thing because she thought too much, which caused her a lot of anxiety attacks she had trouble extricating herself. She sighed as she ran a hand through her unruly hair, and then lay down, her face turned to the wall, trying to ignore the pain that was growing in her, forcing her way into her exhausted heart.


	2. Chapter 2

_The first thing that struck her was the heat. A harsh and almost tangible heat that seemed to crawl around her and invade the space, revelling in the emptiness it was experiencing. She felt like she was in a cocoon filled with this unbearable heat. The second thing that came to her was the crackling, deafening cracklings that seemed to come from everywhere and from nowhere at once. The third thing was instinct. The instinct that something was going badly and that if she didn't react, she would disappear._

_Skye suddenly opened her eyes, which immediately filled with smoke, making them cry. She coughed and the mist filled her throat, burning her lungs. His whole body was painful, as if thousands of needles were deeply planted there. Each breath was a torture, every movement started a nameless suffering. The little girl took on her and sat down. She opened her eyes slightly._

_The fire was everywhere, devouring the walls, rolling over the counter above her. The ashes flew in the browned air. It was impossible to see further than a few centimeters. The smoke was hanging over Skye, as if it was waiting for a sign to plunge on her and to invest her tired body. Because yes, the child had only one desire: to curl up in a ball and sleep. Sleep to never wake up._

_A scream, followed by an infamous gurgling, pulled her out of her stupor. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes. A movement, more chaotic and less graceful than that of voracious flames, caught her attention: a little further to the left, a man was burning, moaning sullenly. The air smelled of sulfur, but also of the flesh, which was slowly charring like a pig that is grilled on a spit._

_Skye repressed nausea and leaned on the wall to get up. Her shaking legs were barely wearing her, but she had to go out! She inhaled and regretted it as soon as the smoke infiltrated her. She was coughing and flickered, her eyes cloudy. So weak ... She could only take a few steps before collapsing heavily, gasping for breath. In front of her, the body didn't move anymore._

Skye was drawn from her nightmare by the loud bell ringing every morning at precisely 7:10 AM. She jumped and straightened up at once, her breathing erratic. Haggard, she detailed the room. She was at the orphanage. Her eyes were troubled by tears; she tried to slow down the beating of her heart. It was way too early for a panic attack, and it was far too humiliating to do it in front of the other kids.

Skye sighed as she passed a shaking hand through her sweat-soaked hair, cursing her mind to play such tricks on her as she slept. Didn't she suffer enough the rest of the time? Was she mad to hope for a little respite at night? The nuns said that each man had to carry his Cross, and that everyone received the share of happiness and the share of misfortune he deserved. They said it was in the natural order of things ... Well, Skye must have been a frightful girl in a past life to deserve so many misfortunes in that life; she didn't see the end of the tunnel. If past lives are a belief of Catholicism, which she doubted. She wasn't very religious. She tended to rebel against anything that could try to control her, so she didn't know very well. Not that it is of vital importance, moreover.

She shrugged. If God really existed, then the Sisters had to be right: she was fundamentally bad and deserved to be punished. Many of them were whispering that she was a bad girl, that she had the devil, the demon, the evil one in her and that she must be punished, that she _deserved_ to be punished. Maybe they weren't wrong. Skye was often angry. Anger was one of the deadly sins, as well as pride and laziness, and it was three characters attributed to her without hesitation. She was surely very bad, the incarnation of Evil in all it splendour.

The pain radiating from her wrist pulled her from her dark thoughts and she glanced at her arm: the wrist was swollen and blue, and it hurt like hell, but it didn't seem to be broken. She would ask a nun for some ice, and it would work out by itself. Skye took a deep breath and pushed back the bed covers, noting that like her hair, her entire body was dripping with sweat. No way to go down without taking a shower.

She got up and spent a few minutes wondering what she would wear for her first day of school. The school year had started a month ago. This would make her more noticeable than if she had arrived at the same time as everyone else. The question was not which outfit would make her the most valuable, but which clothes would be the least shameful to wear. In all, Skye owned two blue jeans, three short-sleeved T-shirts, two long-sleeved shirts, an old vest, a single jog, two pairs of underwear and two pairs of socks. Her last coat was stolen from her when she was at St. Agnes so she didn't have any, and the nuns gave out a few clothes only when they thought the children's clothes were really good to throw away. Skye chooses the most presentable jeans, torn at the knees, as well as a short-sleeved green T-shirt with just two holes. She went to the bathrooms and isolated herself in a compartment. She stared thoughtfully at the clothes she was carelessly holding. As she was thin, they were all ten times too big for her. "I don't even see why I'm bothering," she thought, "I'll look like a bag anyway."

She pushed back her thoughts to hang her clothes on the coat rack with her towel, and then she went to the side to run the water so that she was not touched. She was very afraid of the water, and wanted to adjust the jet correctly so as not to panic. She positioned it on the smallest flow and undressed. She took a shower without putting herself under the jet, contenting herself with collecting the water with her hands and then pouring it on her body. Obviously it was longer, but the other option was way too scary.

She went out after ten minutes and got dressed. Finding that she was literally bathing in her clothes, she made a face. She left the compartment to enjoy the mirror, and could only contemplate the ravages left by the last two nights on her pale face and dug as death. She had huge dark circles and looked even more pale than usual. She looked like a zombie. She tried to do something with her long, unruly brown hair, but gave up, realizing she was late for breakfast. She simply brushed them, went back to her room and put on her old uncomfortable sneakers, before going downstairs.

She was about to enter the refectory when a squeaky voice stopped her impetus:

"Mary Sue, you're late."

She sighed when she heard her awful name, and turned around. She was facing Sister Beatrice.

"Sorry", she mumbled.

"You must have some manners, girl, otherwise no family will want you", the old woman said.

Skye restrained herself very hard not to roll her eyes. She had been hearing this talk since she was old enough to tell the difference between a baby and an old skin. "You must not cry, children, otherwise no one will ever adopt you". "If you shout, nobody will want you." "If you don't work at school, no parent will want to adopt you" ... And blah blah blah.

"Can I go eat?" the teenager sighed.

"You should have arrived on time Mary Sue. The kids are almost done and it's going to be time to go to school, especially since you have to leave earlier. Go up brush your teeth and take your bag."

"But I didn't eat yesterday, I'm hungry!" Skye protested.

"Enough! If you insist on answering, girl, I will make a behaviour report. Do you want to have one while you've just come back?"

Skye clenched her fists and bowed her head, raging with an inner rage that never really left her, and all too often manifested to her liking.

"No, Sister Beatrice."

She nodded dryly and Skye climbed up. The room was empty and she could unleash her anger by hitting the wall twice with her valid fist. The gesture had the effect of bringing a partial calm in her. She calmed her breath and brushed her teeth quickly before making her bag. She had only the notebooks of her old school, almost empty because she had a hard time reading and writing, and basic school materials, and a sports outfit in case she had PE. She took the plan Sister Anne had given her yesterday and came down again after putting on her waistcoat. She would have liked to do without it, but on the one hand she knew it was cold even if it was only in October, and on the other hand she had to hide her scars.

She reported to the main office that she was leaving for school and was reminded once again that she was due to return at the end of classes. She blocked the scathing remark that wanted to cross her lips and went out.

She had just started on the sidewalk when she realized she had forgotten to ask for an ice pack. Never mind. She could bear the pain, and anyway, she had already experienced worse. The thing that worried her most for the moment was that she felt weak because of her lack of sleep and the fact that she hadn't swallowed anything today and yesterday. She sighed to ignore the emptiness she felt in her stomach and kept walking. She couldn't help but be worried about her new school. Of one, she had never liked to go to class, and two, she was really very bad. She didn't want to enter the unfamiliar room of an unknown professor and face about twenty unknown faces who wouldn't hesitate to judge her unkempt and too big outfit. She would have wanted to run away from this stupid school and that stupid orphanage, and depend only on herself. But she knew only too well that the street was not lenient. Formerly, with Robbie, it was easier, but she knew that alone, she had no chance of getting out of it. She had a twinge in her heart when she thought of the only friend she had really had in her life; even more than a friend, a big brother. By his side she had felt pampered, loved and protected for the first time in her young life. But like everything, it had not lasted. Robbie was gone and she was alone and broken again.

She came out of her macabre thoughts when she saw a sweat in the window of a small shop. It was the most beautiful thing she had seen in at least three months. The garment was blue and white and seemed unreasonably silky. She thought fleetingly that she would look a lot less neglected if she wore this garment instead of her waistcoat. It only took her a second to decide. Having practically left to herself since she was little, she had learned some things, of which theft. Well, _Robbie_ had taught her his techniques for stealing stuff, when she was five and him nine. She entered the store, and a glance was enough to notice that there were no safety gates at the entrance and that the clothes didn't have locks. The salesman being busy with a client, she melted among the stalls, all bigger than her. She quickly found the sweatshirt and took it in the smaller size. He would still be a little too tall but not shockingly like her old clothes. She stuffed it into her backpack. After checking that the seller was still busy, she went out normally and waited to bifurcate into another street to take out the sweatshirt, which she tore off the labels. She took off her waistcoat and put it in her bag, before putting on the new garment, which smelled fresh and very sweet, tearing a groan of contentment. Conversely, the vest was rough and it was spinning buttons.

She continued on her way and arrived at school a few minutes later. Despite the renewed confidence that inspired her new sweatshirt, she couldn't help but be intimidated by the size of the building facing her. He was taller than her old school, and even bigger than St. Agnes. Clusters of noisy students came bawling and bickering, and she waited until the bulk of the crowd had dispersed to enter. She didn't like other children, and it was a shame considering the fact that she lived surrounded by children.

She wandered around the corridors for a moment, holding grunts when she was jostled or when some of the students screamed. She had to go to the principal's office, but she had no idea where the famous office was. After going around in circles for a good ten minutes, the ringing sounded. Great, she was going to be late. She hurried, but a boy hit her around the corner. She nearly fell, but he caught her by the arm.

"Sorry", he apologized. "I hadn't seen you."

"It's nothing", she mumbled, retrieving her fallen bag during the altercation.

The boy watched her do.

"By the way, I'm Lincoln."

"Skye," she said simply, pushing her bag.

She looked at him for the first time. He was taller than her but he didn't look much older. He had blond hair in battle and beautiful blue eyes. "Blue as heaven," she thought. He was tall and thin, but his muscles were still under his simple black t-shirt. It was cold but it didn't seem to bother him, since he also had brown shorts. She looked at his blue sneakers and thought fleetingly of those stolen by Sister Anne.

"Nice to meet you, Skye," Lincoln smiled.

His smile was beautiful, and his voice was soft and warm. She gave him a small smile in return, and shook his hand shyly. His skin was soft, and she couldn't help thinking that hers was not because she could never put cream. The boy didn't seem to notice.

"You are new?" he asked.

Skye hesitated. She thought he was nice, but she didn't want to start making connections, considering that she might not stay long enough. Anyway, the minute he learns that she was an orphan, his eyes would change dramatically. And then she was not good at creating relationships. She was relentlessly sarcastic and ironic, and she knew that her mood swings were unbearable. But as he was friendly, she answered him anyway:

"Is it showing that much?"

The teenager could feel her embarrassment, and he shrugged.

"Not really, but you seem to be wondering what you're doing here, and looking for your way", he explicated.

"Touched", she said without being able to stop herself, "you've fallen on a small misplaced animal."

Her constant irony had the gift of annoying a lot of people, but Lincoln was not one of them because he smiled even more widely at his remark.

"Let me guess: you're looking for the director's office, I'm wrong?"

"No. You won the jackpot."

He laughed slightly and Skye smiled. Lincoln seemed to be a cool guy and he didn't take offense at the half-shy, half-sarcastic nature of the girl. She felt comfortable with him, for the moment anyway.

"Come, I'll show you", he said.

Skye followed him up the stairs as he continued to lead the conversation:

"I'm in seventh grade, and you?"

"Same, normally," she said evenly, concentrating not to fall (she was clumsy enough, and hunger didn't help).

"Cool!" he exclaimed. "We may be in the same class."

Skye smiled. She would be a little less lost if she knew that at least one nice boy was part of her classmates.

"Yes, perhaps," she repeated softly.

They stopped on the third floor and Lincoln guided her in several corridors until they reached a large space that served as a waiting room. Several chairs were against a wall and green plants brightened the place a little. The office, whose door was closed, was facing the chairs. The name of the director on the door could be read: Nick Fury. Lincoln announced the obvious:

"Here! Here we are!"

Skye wriggled her hands nervously. The director must have had her file in hand and was therefore aware that it wasn't very bright. She sighed. It didn't help to push back the inevitable.

"Thanks for guiding Lincoln, that's very nice", she thanked.

"You're welcome, that's normal", he replied. "I hope we will see each other in class."

He left and she murmured:

"Yes I hope."

She took a deep breath, taking courage with both hands, and knocked. A muffled "Come In" came to her and she stepped through the door into a large, welcoming office, less cold than she had expected. The director was seated behind a large wooden desk covered with mountains of papers. At first glance, he was very intimidating with his blindfold. She stepped forward, however, and he got up when he saw her. She noticed that he was very tall and seriously muscular. She felt uncomfortable.

"Ah, you must be Mary Sue, I guess? Sit down, I beg you."

She obeyed without bothering to correct her name. In any case, she didn't even feel able to pronounce a single word. He flipped through a file in front of her and she assumed it was hers. She waited patiently for him to speak.

"Well, your record is pretty filled", he commented. "You have been in many schools in a short time. I guess it's because of your placements in different families?"

"Yes", she mumbled without looking at him.

He nodded, turning a page.

"From what I see, you have a lot of difficulties in school, as well as "behaviour problems". Many deductions and punishments as well as some temporary exclusions, and more recently a definitive exclusion. It is written that you have violent behaviour, that you have fought several times, that you show insolence and that you have assaulted a teacher, among others. Do you want to talk to me about it?"

Impassive, Skye simply shrugged, arms folded. Nick Fury smiled internally. The teenager clearly refused the conversation.

"Never mind," he went on. "It's a new school, so a new folder. You are starting from scratch."

He threw the file in the trash. Skye raised an eyebrow. It was totally cliché but she couldn't help but find that comforting.

"Here is your second chance", the director clarified. "I prefer to form my own opinion of my students, and I want the educational team to do the same, which is why no teacher will have access to your file, except in case of extreme urgency. As I said, we are making a clean sweep of the past, and we are starting from scratch. Do you feel like plan?"

She nodded, still inexpressive, but secretly a little reassured. If the teachers didn't have access to her file, then only the director would know that she was an orphan, at least if he didn't talk to anyone, which she had to make sure.

"Good," the man continued, handing her documents. "Here's your schedule and your locker number, and the basic forms to fill out and return to your principal teacher or secretary. You have history in the first period, with your main teacher precisely. Do you have any question?

She hesitated a second and then launched:

"Yes ... In fact I don't really want everyone to know that I am ... an orphan, so I would have liked to know if you could keep this for you?"

She felt her cheeks flush as he examined her silently.

"If that's what you want, okay. I wouldn't say anything to the teachers, except if I deem it absolutely necessary that they learn it."

It was better than nothing.

"Thank you, sir."

She took the documents he had given her and got up to leave. The corridors were empty, and she was anxious about discovering her new class. She took a deep breath and managed to remain calm before starting to walk to her room, which was on the first floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up this Tuesday morning, Philippe J. Coulson felt once again very lucky. His beautiful wife, Melinda May, was still sleeping peacefully by his side, a frail smile breaking the impassive shell that she tried to maintain most of the time when she was awake. They were the opposite of each other, like the two faces of the same coin, which made them all the more complementary. Phil spoke and smiled a lot, he had a pure charisma and you wanted to trust him on the spot. Melinda was a cold, reserved beauty, which allowed her to look at some aspect of their lives much more reluctantly than her husband, who tended to be involved in anything that was important to him. Fortunately for them both, their meeting, then their marriage, had the effect of tempering the too radical characters of their personality. Melinda had learned to open up thanks to Phil and Phil had learned to lay down the limits that were needed, in his work as in his everyday life, thanks to Melinda.

Phil stifled a yawn and sat up on his elbow, giving himself a few moments to contemplate his sleeping beauty at his side. At least, he thought she was asleep.

"You know that watching someone sleep is a psychopath thing?" May asked sleepily.

She opened her eyes and darted at her husband, who smiled maliciously in return.

"Not when that person is your wife, your wife whom you desperately want to kiss every second of every minute of your life."

He leaned over her and kissed her languidly, running his hands under the simple t-shirt she was wearing. She raises a hand behind the neck of her husband to deepen the kiss. The door opened and they heard an indignant cry.

"Yerk, seriously?" the young red girl who had just entered choked.

Phil and May reluctantly parted to face their daughter, Natasha, fourteen years old. May sat down, a smirk on her face.

"It will teach you not to knock, pretty heart."

"I only came to remind you that like every morning, you have to get up. It's not normal, you are adults, you should come to get me out of bed, and not the other way around. And believe me, I learned the lesson. Know that you kiss like octopuses while your room is right next to mine...

She shivered dramatically and finished in a cavernous voice:

"It's going to traumatize me for the rest of my life."

"We don't just kiss each other like octopuses," May retorted, caressing her husband's neck. "We also do many other things in this room if you want to know everything."

Phil almost choked on his saliva as Natasha blushed violently and came out slamming the door. They heard her mumbling.

"What is she saying?" Phil inquired.

Melinda chuckled.

"Something about a good fifteen years therapy", she answered.

Coulson turned to her with a smile and stroked her cheek.

"Where were we?"

They resumed their kiss but stopped before any slippage. Natasha was right; it was more than time to get up. As May spun in the shower, Coulson got dressed and went downstairs. Two of his three children were sitting around breakfast. Natasha struggled to recount the "traumatic experience" she had just lived to her older brother Antoine Triplett, nicknamed Trip by the whole family, and aged sixteen. He gently mocked his little sister by drinking his coffee. Phil laid a kiss on his daughter's head.

"Does that console your poor traumatized brain, darling?"

She pouted.

"It's a start", she mumbled.

His father shook his head, bowing to his son and looking around. One person was missing.

"Where is your sister?"

His two children raised their eyebrows together.

"Do you really need to ask?" Trip said with laughing eyes.

"No, indeed," replied Phil.

He went up the stairs and headed for the door facing Natasha's room. He entered, noticing the sleeping figure on the bed. He shook his head and sat down beside her.

"Get up, Bobbi. It's time to get up."

As he expected, the girl didn't move an eyelid. Coulson retried, unsuccessfully, before deciding to move up a gear. He got up and turned on the light. A wild grunt greeted his attempt and a blonde head dipped under the pillow.

"Bobbi, get up."

She mumbled something incomprehensible and it took ten minutes to make her emerge. Bobbi, now sitting on the bed, her long, tousled blond hair, was staring at her father with resentment.

"I hate you", she mumbled.

Phil laughed and kissed her little head.

"I love you too darling. Get ready, we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

He went out and another grunt came to him. Going down the stairs, his eternal smile glued to his face, he told himself how lucky he was to have his family. His three children and his wife made him happier every day.

Thirty minutes later, the family car parked in the Roosevelt Junior High School car park, where Phil and May taught. They always managed to arrive early to prepare their classes, and to talk with their colleagues, which tended to slightly annoy their children who had to hang around, as Natasha said, forty good minutes before the start of classes.

Once the merry family dispersed, Phil went to his room. He took his things out of his binder and prepared for all the classes he should be giving today, including the homework and exercises he planned to have his students do. Phil was a man of foresight, even though May was beating him heavily on this point, because she loved to deal with all eventualities. The first class he would have was that of the 7th, a class he considered pleasant and dynamic although sometimes turbulent. Some good elements, a majority of students in the standard and a small group of "rebels" he managed to manage in general. He could indeed boast of being a teacher that many students liked because of the good contact he had with them and his passionate personality. And what was certain was that the 7th were far from being his toughest class.

Skye stopped in front of the classroom. The door was closed, and nothing but the idea of having to knock and endure the inquisitive glances of his new "comrades" was turning her stomach upside down. Finally it was a good thing that she didn't eat anything this morning, otherwise she would have vomited all that time; as a first impression there is better.

She took courage with both hands and knocked. She was answered and she pushed the door after a second of hesitation. She glanced briefly at the rows of perfectly aligned tables and the students who occupied them and now had their eyes on her, and instead directed her attention to the man who was standing next to a desk that was facing at the tables while standing slightly apart. He was her teacher, obviously; a man of about forty-five with short brown hair and blue eyes. He smiled kindly while waiting for her to speak. He seemed rather nice but Skye had learned at her expense that you should not bet on appearances. Caution is the mother of safety.

She realized that she had stayed by the door and she stepped stiffly to her teacher. Fortunately, she didn't have to engage in conversation because he spoke low enough that his students wouldn't hear:

"I guess you're our new student? Mary Sue, right?"

She nervously triturated the thong of her bag and answered without looking into her eyes:

"Yes. But instead I prefer to be called Skye. If you call me Mary Sue I will not answer."

She had to at least try, though she could count on the fingers of her hand the number of times her teachers had agreed to call her Skye, which was very little considering all the schools in which she had gone.

Coulson raised an eyebrow, a smirk. The girl was shy but still audacious.

"I am Mr Coulson, your history teacher and head teacher. If you have a problem, or questions, or anything, tell yourself that you can talk to me without any problem, as well as any of your teachers, by the way."

She just nodded, her gaze still pointing elsewhere. He waited a moment and then raised his voice:

"Dear students, I would like to get your attention for a few seconds so get your head out of your exercise for a moment, at least for those who are actually doing it. The others, put away your phones before I confiscate them or stop what you're doing ... it's also true for you Grant, although I doubt that I'm interrupting the crucial moment of your experience of trying to send and stick your pen caps to the ceiling."

The so-called Grant, seated at the back of several students as dispassionate as he was, sneered and stowed his equipment to cross his arms on his table, while other students were laughing with him. Skye thought that this teacher looked cool and didn't get on his high horses like the ones she used to be around, but she couldn't help but curse him for deliberately drawing the attention of the whole class on her. She blushed and nervously put a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Good," Coulson said. I introduce you to your new comrade, Skye (she smiles slightly, glad that he uses the name she chose). I expect you to welcome her nicely, because you all know what it's like to be new, so I hope you'll show how compassionate you are and how _cool_ you are, as you say, you young people.

A new burst of laughter greeted his last sentence. Skye saw Lincoln sitting in the middle. She smiled at him and he gave her a wink; finally a familiar face among all this world. Skye felt partially reassured.

Coulson looked quickly at his class. Mainly good teenagers and he had no doubt that they would help Skye to integrate properly. He spotted a free spot at the bottom and touched the girl's arm to tell her. She jumped and stepped back as if he had burned her. Coulson raised an eyebrow but said nothing and showed her where she could sit. She nodded a second time and headed for it.

Skye sat down, feeling her teacher's gaze on her, and unpacked her things. It had been stronger than she had, when he had touched her, she had instinctively retreated. She hoped he didn't take it personally.

"Hi!" a voice beside her exclaimed, pulling her from her thoughts.

She turned and faced her neighbour, a girl with medium brown hair and a soft smile.

"Hi", she replied slowly.

"I am Jemma", introduced her neighbour. "Jemma Simmons."

"Nice to meet you. I am…"

"Skye," interrupted Jemma. "I heard. It's a very beautiful name."

"Thank you."

Jemma seemed very kind and cheerful, in other words, the exact opposite of Skye. But at least with her, she felt relaxed and confident. As Skye had just arrived and she had no documents, Jemma offered to photocopy her own. Skye felt moved by this gesture. In general, no one was so kind to her in the schools she attended. The kindness of her table neighbour was refreshing and very pleasant. They chatted for a minute, Jemma doing most of the talking, until their teacher took them back gently. Jemma blushed and reconnected immediately to class. Skye had immediately realized that her neighbour was the first kind of class, which, in itself, didn't matter to her as long as she was kind.

Skye looked at Mr Coulson, who was giving his lecture in a loud, clear and passionate voice. It made you want to be interested in the story, not like the last two teachers of history she had who spoke slowly without any passion in their voice and without taking off their ass from their office chair. But Mr Coulson was doing great movements and was walking around the classroom talking happily, pausing as he dictated the class. If she had been less tired, Skye would have listened to his as much as the others, but now she just wanted to sleep and eat. She was more and more hungry, and as a result she felt weaker and weaker. During the hour she let her thoughts wander, her eyes wandering around, fixing on a vacuum. She didn't even know what she was thinking about, basically.

The ring made her startle, attracting the amused look of her teacher and she blushed while preparing her bag. Jemma, knowing that she was no longer breaking any rules, began talking happily until they left the classroom. A boy joined them.

"Skye, this is Fitz. In fact it's Leo, Leo Fitz, but everyone calls him Fitz. Fitz, here's Skye."

"Nice to meet you, Skye," Fitz smiled at her curiously.

Fitz had dark blond hair and clear blue eyes that seemed to analyze everything around him. He looked nice but a little in the moon. Skye smiled shyly, wondering if she should take leave of her classmates or stay with them. She didn't really know how it worked. Fortunately, Jemma unintentionally answered her questions:

"We'd better go. We have Biology."

For Skye, who hated anything near or far to science, Jemma's readiness was almost painful. But she had included her in the group saying "we," and she felt less lonely. Fitz sighed, giving her an apologetic look.

"Simmons loves science, and our shit teacher doesn't diminish her enthusiasm unfortunately."

They started moving forward, Fitz and Simmons bickering nicely. Skye watched them with a smile, without including herself in the conversation she didn't catch a word for since they were jabbering in scientific and mechanical terms, enough to give her headache. A movement beside her caught her attention, and Lincoln appeared in her vision, smiling.

"I see you've met the science twins."

Skye frowned.

"The science tw... ah, Fitz and Simmons! Yes they are…"

"Specials, huh? But that's what makes them so charming. If you ever have trouble in Biology, Physics, Chemistry or Technology it's up to them to address. Except for the Biology, I can help you if you have trouble.

Skye let out a small laugh at the blonde's speech flow.

"I don't know about Biology but it's clear that you master the perfect technique to speak without having to breathe. Frankly, I'm impressed."

He shrugged carelessly.

"What do you want, it's a unique gift to the world. But I can try to teach you, if you wish."

"No thanks, if I wanted to learn, I would turn to the scientific twins, as you call them. They beat you at this game."

She pointed to her classmates, who continued their little fight without stopping for a second, and shook her head gently as they all arrived in front of the Biology room.

"_Touché_," Lincoln grumbled. "But I'm getting better every day.

"I don't doubt it for a second," Skye laughed.

She felt relaxed and confident. Although she didn't promise to stick to her until yesterday, she couldn't help but feel good about this small group. She would have no trouble seeing them as friends, if things continued to evolve in that direction. It scared her a bit because she didn't know how long she would stay and that she was sick of suffering. But at the same time, being alone made her suffer too, even if she tried to hide it. Maybe it was better for her to take advantage of the moment ... but with a safety net and back, to avoid burning her wings.

It's a lot less serene than she came out of the classroom an hour later. This teacher was a real asshole! She couldn't stand him for a year, it was simply impossible. Lincoln laughed softly at her head and they headed for the stairs.

"Oh, so you don't like Mr Quinn?" he asked, walking. "What a surprise!"

"You talk," Fitz grumbled before she could answer. "This guy should teach mirrors so he is imbued with his person, it's unbelievable!"

Skye groaned and refrained from hugging her new "friend".

"You're taking words out of my mouth! This teacher is arrogant, pretentious and puts too much gel in his hair. Not to mention his perfume. I thought I was going to throw up when he came past me!"

"You're exaggerating," Jemma grumbled under the laughter of the boys. "And it's not the person who counts but what he teaches us, right?"

Skye couldn't hold back her smirk.

"If you say so. In the meantime it's not this teacher who will succeed in making me love science."

"And that's not the worst," Lincoln announced.

"What?" Skye exclaimed. "Is there worse than him?"

Three laughs answered her.

"You'll see," Fitz and Simmons said in unison.

Skye wanted to reply to push them to answer her question when her eyesight blurred. She wobbled and missed a step, but didn't fall because Lincoln caught her by the arm. She leaned on the rail to stabilize.

"Whoh!" the blond exclaimed. "You're okay?"

The science twins stopped two steps down and turned, worried. Skye's view lit up.

"Yes, yes, it's nothing. I just missed a walk."

"Are you sure?" he insisted. "I would rather say a vertigo."

"I'm fine, I promise you."

He hesitated but didn't say anything and released her cautiously. They continued to descend but Skye noticed that her classmates had voluntarily slowed the march. This attention touched her. Besides, she knew that Lincoln didn't take his eyes off her. He watched over her and she felt moved. They left the main building to join the gym next door.

"So?" Jemma asked. "Are you ready to suffer an hour of torture?"

Skye laughed.

"I have the feeling that you're not a fan of sport, I'm wrong?"

"Yeah, yes," the girl said. "But especially that Mrs. May is, huh, special."

"Special?" Fitz choked. "Terribly scary, yeah!"

"That's the one you were talking about telling me that there was worse than Quinn?" Skye asked, her heart pounding.

"Among others, yes," said Fitz, shuddering. "Everyone calls her the Ice Queen, and it's not for nothing. The bets are still going on to determine what Coulson and she are doing together."

"Coulson?" Skye wondered.

"Yeah," Jemma said, "they're married and it's a mystery to everyone. She's the opposite of Coulson. It's so weird."

"And she's scary," Fitz gritted.

They stopped in front of the doors. Lincoln saw that Skye wasn't very reassured by the news of the science twins.

"They exaggerate. She's not mean, it's only that she's a little cold and strict. But she is right, so if you follow her instructions there will be no problem."

"If you say so", mumbled the brunette, not reassured for all that.

But hey, when you have to go, you have to go, and anyway they would end up being late. They pushed the doors to join the locker room.


	4. Chapter 4

The gym itself was not visible when entering the building. In fact, one fell directly on a corridor separating into three branches: the one on the left led to the girls' locker room, the one on the right to the boys' locker rooms, and the central branch to a closed double door that led to the gymnasium. The building was old enough but not decrepit, we only felt that it had an experience. Posters dotted the walls, some for sports clubs or self-defense like tai chi.

Fitz and Lincoln greeted the girls before leaving them to join their locker rooms, the hallway being empty. They were the last ones to arrive, and given what she had been told about Ms. May, Skye could easily imagine that the delays were not keeping her up. Jemma and she hurried to their own locker rooms and noticed with relief that the majority of girls in their class had barely begun to change. Uncomfortable, Skye followed Jemma and put her bag next to hers. She took out her spare clothes.

"I'm coming back", she slipped to her friend. "I prefer to change in the toilet."

Jemma raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing and nodded. Skye went out and joined the girls' bathroom, which she locked the door carefully. She hurried to change herself, not wanting to get late again, ignoring the many scars that dotted her skinny body, whose ribs were almost protruding. In the mirror, she looked at her oversized clothes, her long-sleeved T-shirt to hide her arms, which had no less than four holes, and her old discoloured jogging. Then she eyed her face. God she was ugly! She bit her lip to fight the disgust the ice was sending back to her. No wonder no one wants her. She herself could not look in the mirror without being disgusted and ashamed, so could she really blame everyone who had rejected her? She sighed and pulled a high ponytail before she joined Jemma and put her class clothes in her bag.

By the light of the neon lights, Jemma could only see the pallor of her new friend and the rings that were running under her eyes. She thought back to the incident on the stairs and to Lincoln's remark.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked her in a low voice, biting her lip.

Skye looked surprised that she was paying attention to her that way.

"Yes, I promise, she answered. Everything is fine."

Jemma was not convinced but decided not to insist. The girls followed the others and left the locker room to join the gymnasium. As Skye expected, it was very tall and in shades of green, blue and white. Bleachers occupied the entire length of the opposite wall, and a sort of linoleum covered the ground, variegated with markings of yellow, green, blue, white, red, and so on. Large windows attracted whitish light into the building. Jemma and Skye went to join Fitz and Lincoln, who were sitting with the others in front of an Asian woman with long black hair and black clothes. She didn't smile and watched her students. Skye could only agree with Fitz: Mrs. May was seriously scary. When she spoke in a voice almost military or even robotic, the few whispers that dared to browse the students died immediately:

"Good. Now that you're all here, we'll finally be able to start. You will keep the same groups as last week. After the warm-up, we will go directly to the matches. You will do five laps and then stretching."

Everyone wasn't happy, but no one dared to protest. Skye suppressed a quiet sigh. Running without any purpose, like a hamster in it wheel, she hated it. She got up, but her teacher called. She turned to her, wringing her hands.

"Yes?" she asked shyly.

"I've never seen you. Are you the new student, Mary Sue?"

Skye overrode the terrifying look of the woman facing her.

"Skye, I prefer Skye."

Mrs. May nodded.

"Okay, Skye. Don't you risk getting too hot with your top? You are going to run a lot."

Skye tensed and shook her head.

"No, no, it's good."

"Ok. I'll let you join your classmates then."

Skye nodded and quickly found Jemma and Fitz running slowly at the end of the line.

At the end of the second lap, she already felt her lungs burn while she usually had a little more endurance. All her muscles were painful, as atrophied, and she felt really bad. She passed the third and fourth rounds. Sweat trickled down her back; she was hot and cold at the same time. She was in the middle of the fifth lap when she felt her heart pounding painfully. Her eyes blurred and she collapsed. Luckily, Fitz had good reflexes: he saw her rocking to his side and he cushioned his fall by grabbing her by the waist. He made her sit against the wall. Mrs. May was with them in a second. Through the fog of her vision, Skye saw that she seemed worried, just like Jemma and Fitz.

"Skye? Skye, talk to me. What just happened?"

Skye took a deep breath to put her ideas in order. Her vision became normal again.

"I ... I'm fine, I just had a dizzy spell. It's past, now.

"It's not the first," Fitz said. "She felt bad on the stairs before class."

Skye glared at him, which did not escape May.

"All right, thank you Leopold. Join the others, now; you too, Jemma."

They nodded and left. Skye stiffened. She didn't like being alone with adults she didn't know. May waved her hand in front of the teenager's face.

"Skye, tell me: how many fingers do you see?"

"Four," she said, slightly annoyed and tense.

Satisfied with the answer, May nodded and scanned the girl's dug face. Her worried expression returned immediately.

"Have you eaten this morning?" she asked.

Skye shrugged.

"No", she said.

She expected her teacher to comment on it and the importance of eating well, but she did not.

"Well. Can you get up?"

"I don't know."

May smiled a little.

"Can you try?"

Skye nodded and leaned on the wall to sit up. She faltered and May held her arm. The teenager did her best not to back down, otherwise she would fall, but she tensed twice more and stopped breathing when May ran a hand behind her back to help her walk to the bleachers. She made her sit down and let go, realizing that the girl was not comfortable with the contacts.

"Wait here for a second," she ordered.

She left the gym and came back two minutes later. She handed a bar of cereals and an apple to Skye. The teenager looked at her strangely, not daring to appropriate the food. May got impatient.

"Here. You have to eat."

After a few seconds, Skye moved slowly and cautiously took the food. She ate slowly without taking her eyes off from her teacher. When she was done, she thanked her in a low voice, and May gave her a bottle of water. She drank a little and then played nervously with the object while May watched her students, who had just put in a group. She started the matches then refocused her attention on Skye.

"I prefer you observe for this session", she explained. "I don't think you're in a position to play with others."

Skye shrugged; she did not care.

The hour passed much faster than Skye expected. She spent her time watching her friends, even cheering them up loudly under the amused eyes of her teacher. Finally, Mrs. May hissed to announce the end of the hour. The students returned to change and Skye literally jumped out of the stands.

"Easy, anyway," May said.

Skye nodded.

"Goodbye, Mrs May!" she shouted, walking quickly to her locker room.

She found Jemma, who seemed exhausted.

"You played really well!" she congratulated her.

"Thank you, her friend smiled. "And you're the best of supporters!"

Skye laughed and went to the bathroom to change. This done, the four friends found them outside and headed for their last class of the morning, English. Their teacher, Mrs. Hill, brought them in a few minutes later. Skye introduced herself to the dark-haired young woman, who pointed to a free space in the back, next to the boy who was having fun sticking caps on the ceiling in Mr. Coulson's yard. She sat next to him and smiled shyly at him. He looked tall and older than her. He had a square jaw and more muscle than Lincoln, and he had brown hair.

"I'm Ward," he introduced himself. "Grant Ward. You're Skye, aren't you?"

She just nodded as she pulled out her things.

"It's a cool name. So, how do you find our school? That sucks isn't it?"

His flippancy and lack of interest in class made her smile.

"There is worst," she said.

He smiled.

"That's right, I'm exaggerating. You unmasked me."

She was about to answer when the teacher cut the grass under her foot:

"Grant, I'd like you to be a little more attentive to the class, especially after your grade on the last exam, and stop distracting our new student. Well, open your books pages 159-160. Exercise 3 to 7, correct in twenty minutes, and I don't want to hear a sound."

"At your orders, Mrs," muttered Grant, opening the book.

Skye stifled a chuckle and Grant placed the book in the middle so she could see. She took a sheet and wrote the number of the page as well as that of the first exercise in the margin.

When Mrs. Hill passed by her five minutes later, she noticed that her leaf was still white. She leaned toward the teenager.

"Do you need help, Skye? Is there something you do not understand?"

She shook her head without looking at her.

"No. I'm just thinking."

"Okay. Don't hesitate if you need."

She went away. Skye turned her attention to the book. She had just finished reading the instructions. The words were so complicated! When it came to entering computer code lines, it was fine, but there she felt like reading a foreign language, so she needed twice as much time to understand and write. When they made the correction fifteen minutes later, she had scarcely written three sentences. She just copied the answers on the board stupidly without taking the trouble to understand them.

The bell sounds thirty minutes later. Slightly demoralized, she packed up her things.

"Are you okay?" Grant asked her. "You seem distracted."

"Yes," she lied, "I'm just super hungry."

He groaned.

"Me too!"

Skye smiled as she got up. Ward was nice, but in a different way from Lincoln, Jemma and Leo. He looked less intellectual and ready to break any rule, which made them one thing in common. In a way, he made her think of Robbie. She turned her head and saw that her three friends were waiting outside the room. She greeted Grant:

"See you later, Ward!"

She was hardly moving away when a little brunette got inside her. She dropped her bag and bent down to pick it up when she was pushed a second time. She fell to the side and her injured wrist banged against the ground. She hissed in pain and sat down holding her arm against her, her eyes full of tears.

"You should be careful where you walk," said a sweet little girl's voice.

She raised her head. The brunette had matte skin, curly hair, and she wore a floral dress. She looked like a doll, but her hypocritical smile and her weasel eyes spoiled the picture. Skye saw her friends approaching.

"Are you kidding? It's you who pushed her!" Ward intervened. "Are you okay Skye?"

He knelt beside her, attracting the black eyes of the doll.

"Yes, yes, don't worry."

"I wouldn't have jostled her if she was not planted in the middle of the passage," the plague continued in a neutral tone.

"That's enough, Raina," Mrs Hill said, who had approached. "It seems to me that you owe Skye an apology, even if it was just an accident."

"Of course, Mrs. Hill," Raina said. "I'm sorry for having jostled you accidentally, Skye."

Skye gritted her teeth but decided not to aggravate the situation.

"It's nothing."

Raina smiled and turned on her heels. Ward helped Skye up and she winced in pain. Her wrist shot her a lot.

"You're okay, Skye?" Jemma asked her.

"Yes, yes," the teenager smiled.

"Where are you hurt Skye?" Mrs. Hill asked her.

"It's nothing, I hurt my wrist last night and I hit it when Raina pushed me."

"Let me see."

The young woman approached and Skye could not help taking a step back, tense.

"I just want to see your wrist, to check that everything is fine", her teacher said gently.

Skye stared at her hesitantly, but finally gave her her arm. Mrs. Hill raised her sweatshirt slowly and Ward hissed at the hematoma.

"We must put ice," the young teacher recommended. "We have some in the teachers' room. You will come with me and then I will accompany you to the canteen."

The teenager would have liked to protest, but she felt it was a losing battle. She nodded without saying anything and picked up her bag with her good hand.

"We meet at the canteen, Skye," Fitz announced.

She nodded and her friends left, as did Ward. An uncomfortable silence settled as she waited nervously for Mrs. Hill to pack her things. After that, they went out and the young woman locked the door before taking Skye down the hall.

"So?" the professor asked. "How did you hurt yourself?"

Skye gave her a look of incomprehension.

"You said you hurt yourself last night," Mrs. Hill said.

"Ah," Skye simply said Skye, shrugging her shoulders. "I just skidded and falling I hit my wrist against a piece of furniture."

The woman nodded. They arrived at the teachers' room, and entered. The teenager stayed near the entrance while Mrs. Hill went for ice. Skye took the opportunity to observe the place. The room was large and comfortable. There were book and file shelves and large windows that provided a wide white light in the room. Comfortable chairs next to several work tables and several food and beverage dispensers. As it was lunchtime, only a few teachers were there, but Skye saw Mr Coulson. When he saw her, he went to her.

"Skye? Everything is fine?"

She was about to answer when Mrs. Hill came back to her with an ice pack in her hand.

"Here, Skye," she said. "You keep it on your wrist until it is no longer cold, and then you bring it back to us."

"Thank you," the teenager whispered up her sleeve.

She took the ice and shivered when it came in contact with her bare skin.

"I'll take you to the canteen," Mrs. Hill said.

Skye nodded and greeted Coulson before leaving the room, followed by her teacher. They did not talk on the way, but it did not bother Skye, quite the opposite. To speak was much more complicated than to be silent, and the silence was pleasant. They stopped in front of the canteen.

"I leave you there, ok?" the young woman inquired.

"Yes, thank you very much," Skye smiled.

"No problem, it's normal. Take care of yourself, okay? And if your wrist starts throwing you for no reason, go to the infirmary, ok?"

Skye nodded and entered the building. She scanned the self with her eyes and spotted her friends sitting at a table of six near a large window. When he saw her, Fitz got up and came over to her. Skye chuckled.

"You didn't have to get up, you know," she told him.

"And who would have worn your tray if I had remained seated?" he quipped gently.

"Yes, you're right, I hadn't thought about it," Skye laughed.

He took a tray and they started queuing. Fitz found that she didn't choose much.

"Don't you want anything else?" he asked her as they finished. "You almost fainted this morning because you had not eaten, so you have to eat more than that."

Skye shrugged, embarrassed.

"I'm fine, I swear. I do not eat much in general."

Sensing that he was engaging in dangerous terrain, Fitz did not insist and they joined their friends. Seeing Skye's half-empty tray, Jemma frowned and opened her mouth to comment but Fitz stopped her by giving her a slight nudge. Skye began to eat slowly, listening to her friends with a distracted ear. The food was much better than the orphanage, and much better than the majority of her old schools.

The rest of the day passed quickly. After eating, Skye felt a lot better. Since they had a free hour before their first and only afternoon class, they left the school to go to the park a little further. After that, they had a course in technology, in other words Fitz's dada, with Mr. Ivanov. There Skye knew who her friends were talking about when they warned her that there was worse than Quinn. She thought it was May, since the science twins hated sports and Mrs. May was special, but now she was pretty sure they were talking about Ivanov. This guy was disturbing. There was something cruel in his eyes, a certain perversity and a touch of vice. Whenever he looked at her she could not help but shudder. And just like Mr. Quinn, he called her Mary Sue! Fortunately, they only had one hour a week.

Over the course, Skye declined Jemma and Fitz's invitation to go back to the park because she still had the Sisters' warning in her mind and she did not want to disobey the first day. She left them, pretending that her phone was broken when they wanted to give her their numbers. So they wrote them down on a piece of paper, including Lincoln, which she carefully put in her pocket.


	5. Chapter 5

She hurried on the way home. On the one hand, she did not want to annoy the Sisters, and on the other hand she wanted to get rid of her homework quickly. She passed the heavy wrought iron gates barely twenty minutes later. However, she didn't enter the building immediately; instead, she walked around discreetly and walked away to join an old oak she used to look from her window. It was called "the tree of memories" because an old tradition meant that most children who pass here leave their mark on the broad and high trunk, be they initials, a small engraved word, etc. This custom had unfortunately been lost and no one came to the tree with memories except Skye and Robbie at one time. It was their landmark, and Skye loved to come there. She absently walked her fingers over the rough, hollowed-out trunk, then checked that no one was looking at her before grabbing a low branch to pull herself up. From there she continued to climb to the height of a marker engraved by Robbie on the trunk, a cross surmounted by a skull. The drawing pointed to their hiding place, a huge hole in the trunk of the tree, where she and Robbie hid their secrets, at least those who did not fear moisture.

Skye sat down on the branch and took off her new sweatshirt, which she hid in the hollow, along with the other objects already there, mostly items forgotten by Robbie: a lighter, two packs of half-empty cigarettes, an old leather jacket, leather mittens and a car repair manual, in a plastic bag to protect it from moisture. There was also a medium-sized rectangular iron box and a purse.

Skye went down and headed for the orphanage. On entering, she notified the office of her return and then went up to her room. The other girls had returned, like everyone else, and the room was full of noise. Uncomfortable, Skye decided to go work in the playroom downstairs. It would certainly be crowded, but the place was bigger than her miserable bedroom, and the air was therefore more breathable. She returned to the ground floor and crossed the entrance.

The term "playroom" was exaggerated. The room was almost empty because there was not much money and the sisters did not think that children needed toys. There was a reading corne, the few books were worn, just like the brown carpet that over the years had accumulated a lot of indefinable and unpleasant smells. The rest of the room was occupied by tables, with the exception of a space opposite the reading corner, where were some bins half filled with old second- or even third-hand toys, which were in a deplorable state. Felt pens and crayons were self-service on a table next door.

At this time, quite a few children, especially relatively young, because the others were doing their homework or playing outside, were present, and there were two supervisors, Sister Aude and Sister Nathalie. Skye sighed and sat down at a table near the window, then took out her History stuff. She had a text of twenty lines to read that would allow her to answer a series of questions. She had barely begun reading that she was already picking up, completely lost. As a rule she would have given up soon, but she wanted to make a good impression, especially since Mr Coulson looked awesome. She clung to it, with great difficulty, since all the words were mixed in her head without she understood a quarter. For "normal" students, the assignment would have taken one to two hours, big max. Skye spent two hours there before having to go to eat, and then worked until curfew, so another hour and a half. She had done a lot of it but had not finished, and as the electricity automatically shut off at curfew, she could not finish it. She hoped that Coulson would notice her work anyway and not take the unfinished task as a sign of laziness.

Someone knocked on the door and Phil turned his head. His wife was at the entrance to the room, carelessly leaning against the wall. He smiled tenderly at her and she walked slowly as he packed her things. He kissed her and took his satchel in his hand. He locked his room.

"So, your day went well?" Melinda asked him.

He shrugged with his eternal smile on his lips.

"It was eventful, as usual. Some classes are more difficult to manage than others, but it has gone relatively well. And yours?"

"Same," she teased, "except that I have no problem managing my students."

He shook his head, taking her hand.

"My wife, the worst nightmare of the students."

They continued to discuss their day and reached their car, where their children were waiting for them.

"Get off the hood, Bobbi," Melinda ordered.

The girl took the eyes off her phone and obeyed.

"Well, it's not too soon," Natasha grumbled, leaning against the driver's door. "It's been twenty minutes that we're waiting here like..."

"Your vocabulary, girl," Couslon interrupted.

"I was going to say like jugs," she protested.

"Of course," his mother quipped.

Trip laughs softly. Coulson unlocked the car and all climbed in their usual effervescence, the children all talking at the same time to tell their day. Melinda took the wheel and quickly, Coulson drifted in his thoughts as he contemplated the scenery that rushed past behind the glass, listening to his children with a distracted ear.

"Phil?"

He turned his head.

"Yes?"

"You're okay?" May asked him. "You seem pensive."

"That's true," he answered. "I have a funny impression."

"About what?" Trip interjected.

Phil thought for a second, looking straight ahead.

"A new pupil," he replied.

"Skye?" his wife guessed.

He detailed her, surprised.

"Yes," he said. "There is something weird about her, but I can't put my finger on it."

"I know," she confirmed. "I had this sensation too this morning. She couldn't do the basketball session with the others."

"Because of her wrist?" Phil asked.

There was a moment of silence.

"No," said Melinda, taking her eyes off the road for a second to look at her husband's anxious face. "She felt bad. What is the problem with her wrist?"

"She felt bad?" he repeated, raising his voice.

"Phil, please," Melinda said firmly, "I'll explain, but first answer me."

He nodded.

"I saw her in the teachers' room at lunchtime. She was coming for an ice pack. A little later, Maria told me that Skye's wrist was swollen and bruised. Skye explained that she had fallen last night. She didn't tell you about it?"

His wife thought for a moment. Their children had stopped talking to follow their conversation.

"No. If I dispensed her, it's because she almost fainted during the warm-up. She told me she hadn't eaten this morning."

"It doesn't surprise me," Phil said. "Did you see how thin she is? Her clothes are too big and she's white like a stamp of aspirin!"

"Do you think she's anorexic?" May asked, parking in front of their home.

Phil unfastened his belt.

"I don't know. But something is wrong. I can feel it."

May cut off the contact and ran a hand through her hair.

"You know, I gave her food after her faintness, a cereal bar and an apple. She hesitated five minutes before resolving to take them and she ate very slowly. And I don't know if you've noticed, but she really doesn't like human contact."

He nodded.

"Yes. She jumped two meters when I touched her arm. I don't know, maybe the human touch just makes her feel uncomfortable. What worries me most is her leanness. We have to watch her about her. If she doesn't eat enough, even if she's not officially anorexic, she may have health problems."

May undid her belt and went down. The others followed her.

"She's in which class?" Natasha asked, helping her bag.

"In seventh grade," his father replied. "She's twelve years old."

They entered the house and the teenagers went to drop their things upstairs. Coulson took off his coat. May looked at him, worried, then gently touched his shoulder, and hugged his from behind.

"Don't worry," she whispered in his ear. "We will keep an eye on her."

He smiled and turned around without letting her go. He took her neck in his hands and rested his forehead on her.

"Yes, I know," he murmured, "my wonderful wife."

He kissed her and hugged her, closing his eyes, inhaling her sweet perfume.

As she had not slept must last two nights, Skye could enjoy a good night's rest without any nightmares. She woke up shortly before the bell and dressed quickly. She was one of the first children to go to eat. Only three sisters were in the refectory, busy setting up the tables: Sister Beatrice (Skye grimaced), Sister Andrea and Sister Mathilde. Skye smiled as she saw her and walked over to her.

"Hello!"

Sister Mathilde jumped and turned around. She smiled when she saw the teenager.

"Hello you!" she greeted her. "How are you, Skye? Did you sleep well?

"Yes, very well. Do you need a hand?"

Without waiting for an answer, she took a pile of plates and began to arrange them under the benevolent eyes of Sister Mathilde.

Sister Mathilde was one of the youngest Sisters in the orphanage, and the least cowhide according to Skye. She was twenty-seven years old and had joined the orders following the death of her fiancée. Believer, she had consoled herself by faith and by her need to help the poor; she had her heart on her hand and for her, no child, including Skye, had the devil in him, no matter how many problems they could cause. Skye loved her a lot, but since she shared her time between the orphanage and two charities, she did not see her as often as she would like.

She took advantage of her presence to talk to her about the last days, and especially about her new school. Then she went to a table while the other children came gradually.

She managed to swallow her breakfast before the big ones arrived, hence the advantage of being in the first, because in general, the older ones stole food from those who were younger. It was the jungle and the majority of the Sisters let it go. You had to fight for the right to eat, and it was pathetic.

After finishing, she cleared her table and got ready. She was far too early, but she decided to leave all the same. Any place was better than the orphanage, anyway. She helped her bag, warned the reception she was leaving and set off.

She had Computer Science in the first period, with Mr. Peterson. Although he seemed intimidating at first, it turned out that he was actually very kind and pedagogue. Skye already knew everything he spoke to them during the hour but didn't get bored. At the end of the class, he gave them a group assignment to make: create a website on the subject of their choice and present it in a month in front of the class. The prospect of an oral was stressful but Skye reassured herself that it was something she was mastering. She found Fitz and Simmons coming out of class and broached the subject before running out of courage:

"Does it tell you to get together for the project?"

She expected to be rejected, but her friends seemed rather enthusiastic.

"On the other hand," Jemma said with a smile, "I warn you, I am remarkably nil in computer science!"

"I confirm," Fitz chuckled. "It would be wise to forbid her to approach less than three meters from a PC so that her bad waves don't grill it!"

"Hey!" Jemma protested, slapping his shoulder.

"Ouch!" Fitz complained.

They started bickering again.

"Well, have you done?" Lincoln intervened, joining them. "We are going to be late."

The scientific twins grumbled vague insults but nevertheless followed suit ... without stopping quarrelling.

"Oh there, what they are painful!" Lincoln sighed.

Skye and he exchanged a knowing smile.

In the second period, they had Health, and Skye learned from her friends that both Mr. Coulson and Ms. May were teaching this course. Two teachers for one class, it was a bit weird, but she said nothing. They stopped at the hall. May and Coulson arrived a few minutes later. Skye watched them approach. Coulson smiled, unsurprisingly, but May too, which was already more amazing. Well, we were still far from the broad smile of her husband, but there was a gleam in her eyes. Skye found her beautiful like that. They stopped and Coulson unlocked the door. The teachers entered and invited the students to do the same. Skye followed Lincoln, but May called her as she came in:

"Skye," she said. "Can I see you for a minute?"

The teenager sighed and turned around. She went to the office, against which Mrs. May was leaning, unlike her husband who was busy near the door answering a student's questions.

"Yes?" The girl inquired, doing her best to hide her annoyance.

"How are you today?" her teacher asked.

Skye can't hide her surprise at Ms. May's sincere concern. Usually, her teachers didn't have much something to do with her, then this manifest anxiety destabilized her in the highest degree.

"I'm okay," she replied shyly.

May nodded.

"Have you eaten this morning?"

"Yes."

"Good. How's your wrist?"

Skye narrowed her eyes and concluded that Coulson must have told her about it.

"Better, thank you. He deflated during the night."

"Okay," the woman concluded.

Skye smiled shyly and turned away, but was once again cut off:

"Would you have told me, if you hadn't done your faintness? You would have told me about your wrist?"

The teenager hesitated between lying and telling the truth but, in her own particular way, her teacher had been kind to her so she opted for the second option:

"No. I wouldn't have talked about it."

May said nothing and Skye went to sit down. All the places were already taken, except two or three at the bottom, including one at Grant's table, which made her a sign. She smiled at him and sat next to him.

"Yo," the guy said with a wink. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," Skye answered, unpacking her bag. "And you?"

"I'm in a good shape, as always!"

Skye stifled a small laugh.

"And your wrist?" Grant said.

She lifted her sleeve to show him. The hematoma, although still visible, had decreased and the wrist was less swollen.

"It's like new, or almost."

Ward gently took her hand. His hand was hot and rough. He felt the hematoma carefully.

"Does it hurt you?"

"Not really, don't worry, the teenager reassured.

He smiled and she could recover her hand as the class started. They were on the topic of Sport and the risks related to lack of hydration. Skye and Ward listened with a distracted ear, chatting in a low voice despite May's super-ninja, who seemed to have eyes behind her head and mutant ears. Skye learned that Grant was in fact fifteen years old and that he had redoubled three times, once in fourth grade, another in sixth grade, and last year. Then May told to Skye to change of seat after picking them up again, which didn't bother the teenager because Ward was beginning to ask her questions about her; questions she didn't want to answer.

At the end of the class, however, he walked over to her as she put away her kit.

"We'll do a ... thing with friends tonight, does that tell you to come? At least, if you like the thrills..."

"What will you do?" Skye asked with interest.

"We meet sometimes in a disused building in the city center. We play games, or we hang out, we discuss, it depends on nights. We also drink alcohol, but shh, don't say it. And sometimes we do things that are not too conventional. We must keep the mystery otherwise it's less fun. So?"

Skye hesitated for a moment. It was certainly risk taking, since Ward was deliberately mysterious with his story of thrills, and she suspected that he and his mates were doing things that were not necessarily legal, like drinking when they were minors. But in all honesty, Skye didn't like to follow the rules and enjoyed walking off the beaten path.

"It's OK," she decided. "Send me the address."

"Awesome!" the teenager enthused.

He wrote down the address on a piece of paper.

"Come at eight p.m," he said to her.

"I can't so soon," grimaced the teenager. "I can at half past nine."

Ward shrugged.

"It's ok, the night will be far from over anyway."

He left her after a last glance and Skye looked at the paper for a moment before putting it in her pocket. Holding her bag, she noticed the looks of her teachers on her. She blushed, embarrassed, and stammered a "goodbye" muffled before going out. Jemma and Fitz were waiting for her in the hallway, as they had been used to since yesterday. Skye cursed herself for keeping them waiting.

"Sorry for the time", she apologized, sheepishly.

"Pfff," Fitz whispered. "No need to apologize, we are not up to a minute."

Skye smiled, reassured.

"Where is Lincoln?" she asked.

"He must see a friend of his, Gordon, I think," Jemma explained to her. "Do we go?"

Skye nodded and followed in the footsteps of the science twins.

"So," Jemma hesitated, "I saw you talking with Ward yesterday and today."

It was an affirmative sentence but the question was clearly perceptible.

"And?" Skye encouraged.

"Nothing," Jemma said, "I just wanted to tell you to be careful. He's not very..."

"Frequentable," Fitz finished, scratching his hair.

Skye frowned and simply shrugged, not wishing to open the conversation on this subject. If they knew her they would know she was so far from being "frequentable".

"For the moment, he's nice and that's the main thing, right?" she replied.

"Yes, of course," Jemma stammered. "But... be careful, ok?"

"It's promised," the girl smiled, touched by the anxiety of her new friend.

The day passed quickly. As she suspected, Coulson had picked up the exercises they had to do at home, and she had given him with apprehension. He had just told them earlier that it would be noted, which of course had made quite a few students scream because they hadn't done or botched the work, including Ward among others, but Coulson didn't changed his mind, despite the students' feelings. Skye, her, didn't care about her notes.

It was ten past nine p.m. when Skye decided to leave. By returning from classes, she had managed to borrow ten minutes one of the old computers in the playroom, and had been able to see that the place indicated by Ward was about fifteen minutes from here. For once, she was able to lie down quietly without being bothered by the other occupants of the room, after taking a shower and washing her hair in the sink. The feeling of wet hair on the pillow was uncomfortable, but she did not mind the few minutes that followed the curfew. She waited for the Sisters to do their rounds and closed her eyes when Sister Andrea opened the door to check that all the girls were in bed. After she left, Skye waited a few minutes and stood up discreetly. She put on her sneakers on her bare feet without bothering to tie the laces and then took out her backpack (prepared discreetly a little earlier) from under the bed. She shouldered it and slid her pillow under the blanket. The trick was not very elaborate, but the darkness allowed distinguishing a mass and it would do the trick. She went out on tiptoes, making sure the hallway was empty. She joined the upstairs storehouse, whose door was still locked, but had no trouble picking with a hairpin, one of the many tricks taught by Robbie. She lit her small flashlight to light up the area, as electricity automatically shut off at the curfew.

The reserve was a room cluttered with shelves filled with various boxes of all kinds. On the wall opposite the door were two rather narrow windows with bars. Skye went to the first one, the one on the left, but stopped to steal a few bars of chocolate cereal in one of the boxes. Sisters only gave it once a week, on Thursday after school, and Skye found it very stingy. Personally, she thought that the nuns simply kept them for themselves. She had no remorse at stinging four before changing to stuff her pyjamas instead of her clothes in her bag. She put it on her back with both straps and opened the window. She tugged at the bars, which gave way after a few seconds while squeaking. The noise sounded so strong that she stopped, clenched. But no enraged Sister or a child suddenly pulled out of sleep landed and she could put the bars (sawed a few years ago by Robbie) against the wall. Thanks to her small size and thinness, she had no trouble slipping on the window sill in a squatting position. She wasn't particularly dizzy, but didn't look down, focusing her attention on the tree in front of her, a yard or two away. She informed the nearest branch, of which she knew, for having already experienced much, the certainly relative strength but nevertheless sufficient, and sprang forward pushing on her feet. She managed to grab the gnarled branch with her hands and stayed a few seconds suspended in the void, the time that her body stopped to pitch. She climbed to the strength of her arms and used the lower branches to reach the ground safely. She went to get her sweatshirt and put it on immediately before climbing the wall at the lowest point. She took one last look at the filthy building in the distance and ran along the road.


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha entered her brother's room without bothering to strike, drawing a glare from his reflection in the mirror. She shrugged and threw herself on his bed.

"Nat!" Trip growled without turning around. "How many times do I have to tell you: knock before entering, mess!"

"I love you too, big brother," the girl quipped, shaking her long, indomitable red hair.

She tugged at him through the ice.

"Very mature," he commented, adjusting his shirt. "It's all about boundaries and respect, Tash."

Natasha rolled her eyes and then looked at her older brother.

"You leave?" she inquired.

"Yes", he answered.

She opened her mouth but he cut her off:

"And yes, I know that we are on weekdays and that mom and dad are not going to be super happy, but I'm sixteen and as long as I respect their curfew there should not be too much trouble. In addition Bobbi is coming too.

"Are you going to the ruined building?" his sister asked.

He turned abruptly.

"I don't see what you're talking about. You know that there is a risk of collapse and therefore the police have forbidden access."

"To others," Tash grimaced. "I'm not stupid."

Trip sighed.

"Not a word to the parents, ok?"

"My lips are sealed," she promised. "You'll tell me, huh? I have to live vicariously since I'm stuck here."

"Stop your melodrama, will you? You're just too young to come. Mom and Dad would slaughter us all if we let you do the wall to accompany us."

She growled.

"Stop. I'm fourteen, I'm not a baby. Ward is just a year older than me, and even last year he came to your outings. He even came there the year before, when you still had no right to go out."

Trip gave her big eyes.

"That's not how you'll argue your case, Nat. You know what parents think of him, especially mom."

Natasha sighed.

"Yeah, I know. You won."

Bobbi entered, already ready.

"Is it good, Trip?" she asked with a smile.

Trip put on his jacket.

"Yep."

"Go ahead, go away," Nat mumbled. "Go out, while your little sister will moping down here and spend the evening listening to Papa once again chatting about Captain America."

Bobbi laughed and ruffled her hair.

"I'm sorry, but I have absolutely no pity on you. I remind you that you too have your opportunities to have fun, you haven't forgotten?"

Nat mumbled a vague insult and looked at Trip and Bobbi, falsely upset.

Although it was cold outside, Skye's small race helped warm her up a bit. Out of breath, she stopped and continued walking, remembering the plan she had seen at the orphanage. Right road to the lake, then take the pedestrian bridge and follow the street to the woods. She hadn't trouble getting there. The building was longer than high, at most two floors above the ground floor. It looked like any old building: the cracked walls, some of which were half-collapsed, were covered with graffiti and ivy, and many windows were broken or simply non-existent, leaving large gaping holes in which the wind was engulfed in squeak gusts. Skye could see a strong orange light on the ground floor.

She entered timidly without knocking, the door half-broken, and ventured down a hallway that led her to the right to a large living room. The light came from a big fire in the middle of the room, around which several teenagers were sitting, a dozen. She paled slightly: it was far from the "few friends" of Ward, according to her.

Exactly, Ward, who was slumped on an old shabby mattress, saw her in the entrance and rose to meet her.

"Skye! I'm glad you could come!"

He hugged her with familiarity and she tensed, feeling her breath, which was already quite alcoholic.

"Well yes."

He did not seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm and took her hand to drag her behind him. She followed him timidly and frowned as she recognized Raina, who glared at her and sat with two other girls, a tall brunette and a girl with medium-length white hair.

"Yo!" Ward warded to catch everyone's attention. "Everyone here is Skye. Skye: this is everyone."

They greeted her warmly, except Raina, of course, and she felt a little more comfortable. Ward guided her without letting go of her old mattress on which she sat down as the conversation resumed. She noticed that a girl was looking at her curiously, not with animosity, but with a lot of curiosity. Finally she got up and came to sit next to her.

"Hi Skye. I'm Bobbi."

"Hi", Skye smiled putting a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Bobbi looked older than she and she had long silky blond hair. She had a more mature look than most of the young people present and she was very elegant even though she wore only black jeans and a red blouse.

"This is the first time we see you here. Have you known Ward for a long time?"

"No. Since yesterday, in fact."

Bobbi raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Excuse me for asking you that, Skye, but ... how old are you? I don't want to hurt you, or anything, but ..."

She paused, ashamed of her lack tact.

"Sorry", she apologized in a chuckle. "It wasn't very delicate."

Skye laughed softly with her.

"No harm. And I'm twelve."

"Twelve years old!" she choked, drawing Grant's attention to whom she glared. "You're messing Ward!"

"Did I ask you your opinion?" he replied in a cold tone that surprised Skye. "We do nothing wrong with what I know!"

Skye wanted to talk but Bobbi cut the grass under her feet:

"She's too young to hang around here, Ward!"

"We asked you nothing, mix with what looks at you!" the teenager became irritated.

Skye jumped and felt her throat tighten.

"Don't talk to her like that!" a black boy intervened, sitting a little further.

Grant hesitated but didn't take the risk of starting a new conflict. He huffed.

"Don't you want to go outside for two minutes, Skye?"

"Uh..."

He didn't let her finish, getting up and dragging her with him, taking her hand. The teenager, her cheeks flushed, glanced at Bobbi and the rest of the group, whose conversations had stopped at the beginning of the heated exchange, before following Ward who was pulling her gently outward. He guided her through the trees, in spite of the darkness, with a confidence that suggested that he knew the places by heart. They sat on the shore of the lake. Skye stared at the waving water dimly lit by the moon, without saying a word.

"I'm sorry for what just happened", he apologized. "Bobbi is a bother".

"Why did you piss off like that?" she asked carefully.

Ward played with Skye's hand trapped in his.

"Because she annoys me. She's always to meddle with what does not concern her, to believe herself better than everyone else. She allows herself to judge everything and everyone and put all her grain everywhere."

Skye looked at him; his face was neutral. Even if she didn't know her, she didn't feel like Bobbi was what Ward had described, and in general her instinct didn't deceive her. He confused consideration with judgment. Skye had the impression that even if they had just met, the big girl cared enough for her to question her presence here because of her age. This kind of interest, even though it might seem misplaced, was kind of comforting. But she did not share her opinion with Ward, sensing that he would not understand.

"I need a drink", he decreed. "We go back?"

"I'll stay here for a few minutes," Skye decided. "I'll join you after."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes", she smiled. "Go on, don't worry."

He let go of her hand to go back inside. For the moment, she didn't feel like following him. When he had raised his voice, he had frightened her, and his face too, reminding her of memories she would have preferred to forget. She took a deep breath, holding back her tears, and picked up a pebble to throw it into the water. She watched him drown slowly, his eyes blank.

A creak behind her made her jump. She got up quickly and scanned the woods. _Crac_. Her heart raced in her chest. She felt like she was being watched.

"Someone there?" she asked, her voice wavering.

_Crac_. She had a weight on her chest and trouble breathing. A shadow appeared on the left and she screamed back. As she was at the edge of the water, she nearly fell, but a hand grabbed her arm and pushed her away from the shore.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you."

She raised her head, her legs shaking, and recognized the boy who had scolded Ward for speaking badly to Bobbi. He looked at her, worried, and she slowly took a breath.

"You're okay?" he asked.

Her legs stabilized and her heart slowed down to return to a more normal rhythm.

"Ye ... yeah."

He stared at her for another second then gently let go of her arm, which she brought back with the other against her chest.

"I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, and Ward said you were there. I'm sorry to have landed like this. I should have announced myself."

He smiled at her and she noticed that his face was incredibly soft when he wasn't angry.

"It's nothing," she murmured, dancing from one foot to the other.

"My name is Trip."

"Trip?" she repeated with a smirk.

"Yeah," he laughed, "actually my name is Antoine, but everyone calls me Trip. It's complicated."

He let a moment pass and then continued:

"By the way, I'm sorry for screaming like that in the living room. I really didn't want to scare you. It only displeased me..."

"That Ward was talking badly to Bobbi," she finished. "I understood, don't be worry. And then you did not really scare me, it's more him."

"Yeah... I also wanted to apologize on behalf of Bobbi. Sometimes she's pretty indelicate and stick her nose in everything except what concerns her. Sorry if she made you uncomfortable."

Skye laughed slightly, shivering, cold air freezing her body.

"Do you realize that we met not even five minutes ago and that you've already apologized three times?"

He laughed with her.

"Yeah, I know. I always apologize too much. It seems that I am a boy too kind."

He winked at her.

"Oh, and who is saying that?" Skye inquired.

He narrowed his eyes, then let go:

"My mom."

Skye burst out laughing and he followed her. She thought him very sweet and kind, that's right.

"Well, I do not really know you, but I think she's right."

"Thank you."

The teenager crossed her arms when a gust of wind stronger than the others shook her. Trip watched her shiver and took off his leather jacket.

"Here."

She shook her head.

"It's okay."

"If you continue to slam your teeth like that", he said, "You'll end up with a denture, so take it."

He gave her big eyes and she took it after a second gust of wind that froze her arms.

"Thank you", she said timidly, putting it on.

"No problem."

He wanted to add something but they were interrupted by the others, who were leaving the building. Bobbi joined them.

"So we continue outside?" Trip asked.

The blonde shrugged, smiling at Skye.

"Something like that. Ward's clique wants to "put a little mood"," she explained in a vaguely contemptuous tone, mimicking the quotation marks with her fingers.

"Which means?" the teenager insisted.

"It means that we will do something that is definitely not Skye's age, and certainly not legal. The Exchange."

"Come on, Bobbi, I love this game, me!" Trip exclaimed.

"Yeah, at least until the police show up. Have you ever forgotten what happened last time?"

Trip sighed without losing his smile.

"It's the risk that makes it fun", he protested, "and in itself we do nothing unforgivable."

"Excuse me", Skye interjected, lost, "but what is the Exchange?"

"An illegal thing," the blonde replied in the second.

"It doesn't matter, the main thing is that we have fun!" Trip decided. "Come on Skye, you'll see!"

He took her hand and dragged her away, where the whole group was gathered. Bobbi followed them with a grunt. The teenagers were in the street, a street not very wide but without being too narrow, and in which the majority of the lampposts were grilled. Several cars were parked on both sides.

A boy put a bag against a pole. Inside, Skye saw tools: screwdrivers, cutting pliers, and soft metal bars. She understood what they were going to do.

"The goal of the game is to move as many cars as possible to park in other places, in a given time, knowing that you must first enter the cars without triggering alarms", Trip explained.

Skye nodded and watched Ward hand out the tools. It was decided that they would be divided into teams of two, and those who did not want to play would be the referees and would count the number of cars moved by each team.

"Are you playing, Raina?" Grant asked.

She raised a scornful eyebrow.

"You know I don't like this little game, Ward. Vandalize cars, I see nothing funny in this."

Ward shrugged and told Skye. He frowned slightly as he saw her with Trip's jacket and close to him.

"Skye, are you playing? We get together?"

"Yes if you want", she agreed, advancing under the green eyes of the doll in a floral dress.

"Do you really want to choose her when she never played?" Raina prompted. "You are going to lose!"

"Never mind!" the brown man replied carelessly. "We're here to have fun, anyway, nothing more!"

He handed the tools to Skye, as well as a green armband identical to his. She slipped it over Trip's jacket.

"We have twenty minutes!" Ward said. "Each team stays together with each car, we do not have the right to separate to make more cars, and if a team sounds an alarm she's disqualified, ok?"

Everyone nodded, including Trip, who was in a group with the white-haired girl Skye had seen with Raina. Bobbi didn't play. A whistle sounded and the teams dispersed. Skye followed Ward, who had taken her by the hand. For the first time in a while, she felt her heart lighten up from the weight she was constantly dragging. She felt like she was coming back to the time she was hanging out in the street with Robbie.

They stopped in front of a blue car, and Ward took the helm, which he inserted between the window and the front door. Since he was far from being perfectly sober, his hands trembled a lot and he was struggling. Hearing screams everywhere, Skye noticed that several of the other teams had already managed to force their first car. Having a very strong competitive instinct, Skye didn't like losing. She took the bar from Ward's hands and pushed him slightly.

"Let me do", she said.

He said nothing and she forced the door in a few seconds under his astonished eyes.

"It's not the first time you've done that," he said.

"Nice analysis, Sherlock," she smiled, taking him the pliers and the little screwdriver.

She unscrewed the space under the dashboard to extract the threads. She cut two of them carefully and then joined them. The engine buzzed and Ward took the wheel to drop the car further.

"Well done Skye!" he exclaimed when they left the cabin.

She smiled at him and they rushed to another car. After all, they were late to catch up.

Fifteen minutes later, they had managed to move six cars, and from what she could see, they were in second place, just after the group of Trip, which was in its seventh. Skye had just forced the door of a yellow Clio when a shrill alarm made her jump. She thought for a moment that she was responsible for triggering it, but realized it came from Trip's car. The game ended immediately: several teenagers, including Raina and her big brown buddy, fled for fear that the police would come, others returned to the disused building, and the last remained planted on the spot without knowing what to do.

"Silence this alarm!" Ward shouted, hands on ears.

The girl who accompanied Trip was scrambling on the door.

"I can't do it!"

Skye rushed towards them, followed closely by Ward. Bobbi also arrived and took Trip's arm.

"We can't stay there, we must go!" she shouted so that he could hear her over the din.

He didn't move and tried to reassure the blonde girl looking around to make sure nobody was coming.

Seeing that the white-haired girl could not get the bar right, Skye stepped forward and took it from her hands. The girl let her go and shifted. Skye took a deep breath and ignored the sound of the alarm. She managed to force the door, broke into the car and unscrewed the panel. She spotted the wires of the alarm and cut them off. As soon the calm returned. She huffed and went out. Besides Ward, who had already seen what she was capable of, everyone was staring at her with wide, surprised eyes. The sound of an engine took them out of their daze.

"It's probably the cops!" Bobbi shouted.

They retrieved the bag of tools and decamped back to the inside of the old building. They discovered that the wind had extinguished the fire, which was no worse in the case where the police were likely to perform a round in the vicinity. Apart from them, only four teenagers had not left, three boys and a girl. They looked out the windows and actually saw the headlights of two cars puncturing the night. They waited for them to leave in tense silence, then Ward and Trip turned on the fire. Skye huffed, reassured. She had never had a very good relationship with the police.

The danger averted, everyone laughed nervously and Skye and Grant had fun taunting Trip and his partner - Skye learned that she was named Ruby - for their defeat. Ward took a bottle and drank the bottleneck, which he called the "sip of victory," and then passed it to Skye. She didn't have time to refuse that Bobbi interfered, grabbing the bottle grumbling:

"You're crazy, she's too young!"

Ward huffed and Skye felt his nervousness. She put a hand on his arm to calm him down. As she was walking home and had to climb the wall and the tree, she did not intend to drink even a drop of alcohol.

Having had enough strong emotions for the night, the next hour went more calmly. They chatted happily and made card games that turned into loud laughter because Ward, Trip and two of the other three boys were still getting drunk. After a while, when the girl and one of the boys Skye did not know the name were gone, she decided to go back, feeling her eyes close more and more. She took leave of the group, Trip and Bobbi greeting her warmly. Skye pretended to take off the jacket she was wearing to return it to Trip, but he told her to keep it, and she could return it to him when they saw themselves at school.

She entered the road,

her heart lighter than usual. When she came back to St. Agnes, she thought the road would already be clear. As usual she would go to the private school where she would be harassed and humiliated just like the orphanage elsewhere, she would be alone and without friends. But her new school was changing everything and she had made new acquaintances (because it was far too early to use the word friendship) in no time. This rebound in her monotonous life gave her a glimpse of days she hoped would be better than all those she had already had.


	7. Chapter 7

Melinda entered the dark room and opened the curtains. A groan sounded under the duvet, which the black-haired woman ruthlessly tore off, revealing a mass of messy blonde girl.

"Stand up Bobbi!"

"Speak not so loud", the teenager grumbled, curling up to try to keep some heat.

Melinda crossed her arms.

"You have ten seconds to wake up before I go get the bucket of water."

Bobbi opened a sleepy eye.

"You wouldn't dare?"

"We bet?" Melinda answered.

Bobbi sighed deeply… but didn't move.

"Ten, nine, eight…", Melinda started.

"Ok, ok, it's fine!" the young blonde girl capitulated.

She sat slowly yawning.

"A little tenderness from my mom on my waking, it would be too much asked?" she groused.

"We've already tried the gentle way and I remain you it's not really effective", Melinda retorted.

Bobbi glared at her but said nothing and stretched slowly.

"Well, I know someone who should have returned earlier last night", Melinda teased, airing the room.

"Hey, we respected the curfew, I remind you!" Bobbi pointed out to her, finally deciding to get up.

"Still, since you have trouble waking up the morning, you should avoid evenings in the weekday, girl".

"I have to put some action into my dull and monotonous life", sighed Bobbi dramatically.

Melinda laughed, shaking her head.

"Dull and monotonous, just that?" she said.

"Yep", the teenager confirmed.

"Well, you have five minutes to prepare before dragging your monotony down, if you don't want to go to class with an empty stomach", Melinda concluded leaving the room with a light step.

She smiled as a second ill-licked bear growl echoed her sentence. A morning like any other, she thought as she walked down the stairs.

Having taking the threat seriously, Bobbi joined the kitchen barely three minutes later for fear of missing the most important meal of the day, and by the way the most fun. Their father, dressed in his old Lion King apron, was finishing preparing blueberry pancakes, humming a song by Supertramp. The table was full of food, as it was every morning: several bowls wit cut fruit, toasted toasts, jam, honey, butter, bacon and eggs, as well as several bottles of juice, since none of the children ate the same thing overnight. The teenager sat down next to Trip and across from Melinda. She detailed her family: Trip and Natasha, seated next on each other, bickered over the "limits" that Tash spent her time to cross, "encroaching on personal space" of Trip. To be honest, Trip was grumbling, spreading his strawberry jam toast and Nat barely listened to him, busy playing with her scrambled eggs. Melinda was smirking at them, and Phil joined the table, a plate full of pancakes in his hand. He sat down next to his wife and put the plate down. Bobbi took three pancakes, which she sprinkled generously with maple syrup, as well as a glass of milk, and sighed with ease in the familiar atmosphere of their family mornings. Even with sometimes different schedules, they tried to eat most of the meals together, and Bobbi loved those times when the kitchen was filled with the scent of grilled bacon and heated discussions all over the table.

Precisely, Trip, who had finally capitulated to the blatant disinterest of his sister, turned his attention to their parents, who were discussing the next teachers' meeting, and interrupted them shamelessly:

"Okay. When are you going to get my new little brother? Because having only sisters, it sucks."

He yelped and tucked his head in his shoulders when Bobbi patted him on the head. Melinda looked her son.

"Manners, Trip. You can't interrupt a conversation like that."

"Sorry", he apologized, not thinking a word about it. "Okay, then? When are you going to get him?"

Phil opened his mouth but Natasha cut the grass off under his foot:

"He got the wrong word. He wanted to say: when are you going to get our new little sister?"

"Absolutely not!" Trip choked.

Melinda sighed as they resumed loud bickering, and whistled to bring order. Phil clapped his hand over his ears, smiling, tense.

"Can we please speak without raising the voice out?" Melinda asked, unable to help but a smile slightly. "It's only seven a.m., it's too early for a headache."

"I agree with Natasha", Bobbi said, finishing her drink. "A little sister is better than a little brother".

Trip nudged her, but she ignored him, smiling. Phil shook his head.

"Nothing has been decided yet, I remind you. We have a meeting this evening at the orphanage to meet the director and find out about adoption. Eventually we will start to fill some paperwork. But it will be done slowly, so we will not bring any child back for a few weeks, even a few months. We don't know if it will be a boy or a girl, we'll see when the times come."

Natasha sighed loudly.

"A few weeks or months? It's too long!"

Her brother and her sister nodded, totally agree.

"You have to be patient, children", Melinda smiled, bringing her cup of hot tea to her lips.

"Patience sucks", Bobbi said.

"Yeah," Trip grumbled. "It sucks".

Skye closed her locker and jumped when she discovered Ward, who was leaning against the next row. He smiled at her mischievously.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, slyly.

"You made me jump", the teenager nuanced, shaking her head. "It's not the same thing."

"You're the only one to see any difference".

Skye stuck out her tongue and they started walking down the hall towards their first period, the French class with a certain Mrs Price.

"How are you this morning?" her friend asked giving her a little push.

"I'm fine", she replied laconically. "And you? How's your hangover?"

He glared at her, his dark circles clearly visible under his eyes, as much as his whitish - and greenish at the same time – complexion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ah, I see that we prefer to avoid the subject", she teased him. "No problem. Your face speaks for you, old man".

"Old man?" he breathed, affecting to be shocked.

She shrugged.

"I'm twelve years old, you're fifteen: for me you're like my grandfather."

"Hey!" he laughed, pushing her. "Your grandfather, seriously?"

"Yep, she confirmed with a little smile.

The teenager ran a hand through his hair and assumed a false air of anger.

"Be careful, the grandfather may suddenly want to throw you out the window."

Skye pretended to shiver and replied:

"Ouh, I'm so scared! I fear that my unfortunate fall from the top of the ground floor will be fatal!"

They laughed and continued on to their room. Skye spotted Leo, Jemma and Lincoln near the door. Ward greeted her and left her to join his group of friends. Skye shook her head, still the smile on her lips, and joined her own friends.

"Hi!" she exclaimed.

They greeted her in return.

"You seem in a good mood", Jemma commented.

"It's because I am", Skye replied. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"If you say so", Fitz mumbled, his nose plunged into a science book with an obscure name.

Jemma rolled her eyes and nudged the blonde.

"What?" he grumbled without looking up.

Lincoln laughed and Jemma shook her head before turning her attention back on her friend.

"What were you talking about with Ward?" she asked innocently.

Not fool, Skye gave her a knowing smile.

"We were talking about yesterday's… party."

"A party?" Lincoln repeated.

"Yeah. Ward invited me to a little party with some of his friends. It was cool."

"Yes", Fitz said still without looking up, Ward's parties are known for being… cool."

The tone Fitz used surprised Skye. She frowned.

"What does it mean?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Don't listen to him", Jemma said, making big eyes to the blonde, "he's in bad shape."

Unconvinced, the teenager simply raised her eyebrows, uncomfortable with Fitz's attitude. The more time she spent with them, the more she felt that they didn't support Ward, for reasons that she didn't know, and which didn't concern her. But she couldn't help thinking that if they really knew who she was, and what she could have done in the past (and things she kept doing in the present), they would put her in the same basket at the brown one, and maybe they would speak from her with that same hostility to a new friend. She didn't have time to torture herself any longer because the teacher arrived and brought them in.

After this class (Skye found the teacher a little harsh but not particularly unpleasant), they had art class with Mrs. Nadeer, who the teenager immediately found haughty and unpleasant. Too bad, it was one of the classes she had always enjoyed, but she felt it would not be the case this year. She pouted as she walked out of the room, but regained her smile as she listened with a distracted ear to yet another scientific conversation between the twins, which she didn't pick up on, but distracted her from her thoughts.

They had history in third period, which also cheered her up. Mr Coulson was really nice. As she entered the room, she saw that he was talking to Trip. She thought he must have been one of his students. She took out the jacket he had loaned her the day before and walked shyly to wait for the end of their conversation. But Trip stopped when he saw her.

"Skye!" he exclaimed in a playful tone. "How are you?"

She hesitated, not wishing to impose herself. Fortunately, Coulson, surprised, spoke in her place:

"You know each other?"

"Yeah", Skye replied softly. "I'm fine, and you?"

He nodded happily.

"Same. I didn't know you had my father as a teacher."

She coughed.

"Your father?" she repeated.

Coulson smiled.

"Yes", he said, "it doesn't look like, but I'm actually..."

"My father", Trip finished. "Technically he is my adoptive father, which explains the slight difference in complexion."

A little lost, she just nodded while fiddling with the jacket, and then she frowned.

"But then, your mother, the one who says you're too nice, is..."

"Melinda May, yes", he interrupted. "Let me guess, she's one of your teachers too?"

She nodded smiling slightly, embarrassed, then handed him his jacket under the interested eyes of her teacher.

"Thank you for lending it to me."

"You're welcome, that's normal," he declared, recovering it.

She gave a small smile to Coulson before waving her hand at Trip. She went to sit down. The teenager looked after her, then a sudden illumination crossed his mind and he turned to his father.

"Wait, I didn't make the link when we met ... is she the one you were talking about the day before yesterday, your new anorexic student?"

"Maybe anorexic", Coulson said, watching the last students come in to settle down. "Yes it's her. How do you know her?"

"Yesterday evening. Ward invited her."

Phil's eyes widened, but Trip continued before he could open his mouth:

"Don't worry, Bobbi didn't let her drink and we kept an eye on her."

The teenager made a face, realizing the blunder he had just committed, and that his father notified:

"Because there was alcohol at your little party?"

"Maybe ... But you know that we are responsible, masts and we didn't drink masses."

His attempt of minimization was unsuccessful, presumably because of the dark circles that ran before his eyes, and because his father was not born the last rain.

"Yes of course. We'll talk about it tonight, you can be sure."

Trip sighed, holding back his smile, no more worried about his father's attitude, and left his classroom.

Skye had nervously followed their exchange with her eyes, burning with eagerness to know if Trip had spoken to his... father, which she feared. What if he told him about the vandalized cars last night? But she reasoned on this last point. Since he had participated in the game, it was not in his interest to cook at Coulson, at least she hoped very much. She watched Trip leave the room, then noticed that her teacher was staring at her casually. Embarrassed, she turned her head. She spent three-quarters of an hour watching the birds flying from tree to tree and the wind that stirred the leaves. At one point it started to rain: she hoped it wouldn't last because her sweatshirt was not waterproof.

Phil did not know what to think. What his son had taught him disturbed him. The teenager was far too young to hang out in the kind of parties that Grant Ward trained her to, especially since the teenager was what you could call a "bad boy." Even if he didn't want to be too protective (Melinda kept teasing him about this), he promised himself to be careful that Ward was correct towards his young pupil, who touched him in a curious way, as much by her big fearful but daring brown eyes as by her small body which seemed to be able to break under the slightest gust of wind. She had been there for less than a week, but had previously felt unwell and needed an ice pack. Honestly, Coulson had no idea how he should approach the problem. Skye wasn't eating enough, and he knew that a frontal attack would make her stick up. Maybe he should make an appointment with her parents, but this would risk making her suspicious, and in this case he could no longer try any approach without her paying him back, he knew well how adolescents worked. After all he had raised three.

He sighed. He should discuss it with his wife, and then he would see. But it was out of the question to let the girl's condition deteriorate further. It was their responsibility to make sure she went well.

Skye sighed deeply as she changed into the bathroom. It was 1:35 pm and they had Sport. She thought it was stupid, four hours a week, especially since she hated basketball. Besides, she hadn't eaten masses at noon and wanted everything except to run after a ball like a dog. She groaned - just like a dog, she teased - and left the room to join Jemma and Fitz in the gymnasium. Lincoln was talking to a red-haired girl and Ward… well, Ward was cutting. He had offered her to cut the class with him, but she didn't want her absence to go back to the Sisters, at least not when she had just arrived at her new school. Even if, to be honest, the idea of missing Sport had tickled her mind. Anyway, it was too late to regret. She made a high ponytail so that her long untamed hair didn't bother her.

"You're okay?" she asked the scientific twins, who were pulling the face.

"No", Fitz replied. "Basketball sucks."

"Sport sucks", Jemma corrected.

Fitz nodded energetically and Skye laughed. They were even worse than her.

"Okay, Mrs May's voice said. "Warm-up for everyone, four laps. Skye, come see me for two seconds, please."

The teenager obeyed, suppressing a sigh as her classmates started to run.

"Your wrist is healed? Are you sure you can do basketball?" her teacher asked.

Skye nodded.

"Yes, I am fine."

"Okay. Don't hesitate if you're in pain, let me know."

Skye nodded and joined her friends. After the warm-up, they resumed the same teams as Tuesday, and May gave Skye the option of joining the team she wanted. She choosed to go to Jemma's, the blue one, even if Raina and her brown friend Heida were among them. Heida gave her an evil look, which she ignored superbly to go and post with her friend.

"Thank you", Jemma said. "You save me from the debility of this group."

Skye laughed before turning her attention to the teacher, who announced the first match, between the blue team and the yellow team. She groaned, not very delighted, and gained the ground. Raina, who led the team, put them both on the defence, which wasn't bad. So Skye hoped that she would have less to run ... which turned out to be far from true. The yellow team, of which Lincoln was a part, was very talented, much more than the blue, and even if Skye had to run a lot, it appeared that she was very bad at basketball and could not repel them, just like Jemma. The yellow team scored three baskets, and she and Jemma caught the glare of part of their team. They lost 1 to 4. Joining the stands to make room for the next game, Heida shook Skye.

"You're a plague, the new!"

"Yeah, go back to where you come from!" Raina added.

They passed her, laughing. Skye, stomach knotted, watched them complain about her to the rest of the team.

"Don't listen to them", Lincoln said, who had heard everything. "Come sit with us girls."

She and Jemma happily accepted his proposal and sat down with the yellow team. Despite everything, Skye only paid a relative attention to the match that was taking place before their eyes. Lorelei's group wasn't enough at the orphanage, now there was Raina's. Great.

They lost their next two games. Raina and Heida had succeeded in putting the team against Jemma and Skye, who had endure several remarks in a low voice, as well as a few shoulders shots, all that when their teacher had their back turned, of course. At the end of the last match, Jemma, who was trying to do her job as a defender (on her side, Skye had given up and didn't want to make any effort or run), found herself in spite of herself in front of Heida. Because of her, the tall brunette girl missed a pass; the ball went out of bounds. Unhappy, Heida pushed Jemma violently.

"Get the hell out of here, nerd!"

Jemma fell to the ground and Raina sneered, contemptuously. Ms. May, who managed the ball a little further (because the two teams were arguing over who had thrown the ball), had seen nothing. Heida approached Jemma.

"You have nothing to do there, the nerd", she added. "Why don't you go back to your cave to do your weirdo stuff, rather than spoil the air here with your presence? No one wants you, do you understand that, or is it hard to get into your stupid head?!"

Jemma let out a wounded tear.

"Oh, look, the baby is crying!" Raina laughed.

Raina, Heida and a boy from their team laughed. Skye intervened and stood before Jemma. She pushed Heida.

"Stay away from her", she threatened.

"Or what?"

Skye took a step forward.

"Or I make you swallow your little white teeth. Is it enough clear?"

Skye looked behind her and noticed that Fitz was helping her friend to get up. She looked towards the stands and saw that the other teams were watching the exchange without saying anything. Lincoln and two other boys had approached, presumably to try to defuse the conflict. Raina chuckled and crossed her arms.

"Look at this, Heida, it's the small guard dog of the nerd. It's a good dog, huh? Do you want a little bone to eat?"

"Repeat that!" Skye got angry as she stepped forward, ready to hit the stupid doll.

But Lincoln interposed, interrupting her movement by barring his body.

"Forget it, Skye. They aren't worth it."

"What is happening here?" the strong voice of the professor intervened.

With a look, Melinda observed the scene. On the one hand, Skye seething with anger and Lincoln in front of her who prevented her from advancing despite her feeble attempts, as well as Jemma, who was crying, and Fitz; on the other, Raina and Heida and two other boys, who seemed half-edgy, half-contemptuous. She felt a very strong tension emanating from the crowd. No one answered her. She crossed her arms and her natural authority forced some of the teens to pay attention to her, except Skye, who had her eyes on Raina, and Lincoln, who was focused on Skye to keep her from getting into trouble.

"I'm waiting for an answer", their teacher said.

"It's Skye", Heida replied. "She's completely loony, that's what's going on."

Skye saw red and pushed Lincoln to pounce on Haida, but he caught her by the waist at the last moment.

"Let me go!" She screamed.

"You see!" Heida yelled. "It's a wild animal, she should be locked up!"

Skye struggled.

"That's enough!" May intervened. "Everyone joins the locker room, except Raina, Heida, Skye, Lincoln, Leo and Jemma. Execution!"

The teenagers complied.

"Let me go", Skye growled, writhing in Lincoln's arms, her eyes clouded with rage.

"Calm down, Skye, right away", May said firmly.

"It's not possible, it's an animal", Raina said.

Skye struggled with more force.

"Enough, Raina!" May exclaimed.

She could see that the two girls were doing everything to make the situation worse.

"Lincoln, take Skye to the stands, I'll join you in two minutes."

The teenager obeyed, taking Skye with difficulty, because she didn't give in.

"I want an explanation now", May said, looking stormy.

"We don't know what happened", Raina said. "Skye pounced on us all of a sudden. She is dangerous."

"It's not what happened, you're lying!" Fitz retorted. "Lincoln and I saw it all."

"You're the one who lie!" Heida yelled.

May sighed, rubbing her eyes, feeling a migraine headache.

"Heida and Raina, join the locker room."

"But…"

"Right now!"

The two girls obeyed after having glared at the scientific twins.

"What did you see Leo? Mrs. May asked.

"Lincoln and I were in the stands, and we saw Heida pushing Jemma, who fell. I don't know what she said, but Jemma cried and Skye intervened. We left the stands to try to calm the situation down, but Raina insulted Skye and Skye got angry."

May nodded, pensive, and looked at Jemma, whose arms were crossed and her eyes were full of tears.

"Jemma, that's what happened?"

Jemma said nothing, staring at the floor, then nodded.

"Since earlier", she murmured, crying, "they've kept insulting us and making fun of Skye and me because we suck in basketball. They said that I was a nerd ... and a weirdo.

May softened and approached the teenager.

"Don't listen to them. They're bad players, that's all. I hate that kind of sportsmanship. If I teach this discipline it is above all because it emphasizes the team, good team spirit, and on cooperation, mutual aid, good understanding. It annoys me when I find myself facing students who tarnish these values ... Don't listen to them, ok? Not everyone is good at sports, but the important thing is that you give your best. The only one you have to satisfy is yourself, telling yourself that you've done your best, no matter what others may think. And above all do not listen to their jealousy. I often hear about you Jemma, from the other teachers. You are an extremely brilliant student and you surpass all the others in many subjects. If they insult your intelligence, it is because they are far from being at your level. Don't listen to these vipers, okay? And if this kind of behaviour happens again in the next sessions, I want you to let me know, is that clear? It is valid for both."

Jemma smiled weakly.

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Don't be discouraged, you have made a lot of progress since the first basketball lesson. They don't see it, neither do you, but I do. Go change yourself, now, or you'll be late to your next class."

They nodded and walked away, Fitz supporting Jemma. May sighed and walked to the stands. Skye and Lincoln were seated. Skye stared at the floor, arms folded.

"Are you calm?" May inquired.

Skye sniffed to hide her nervousness.

"Yeah", she said.

"Well."

Skye got up, ready to go, but May stopped her gesture.

"One second."

Skye groaned and sat back down.

"Leo and Jemma explained the situation to me. I know you were only defending your friend and defending yourself, but that kind of behaviour, I don't want it in my gym. Is that clear?"

"Like rock water", she quipped. "I can go?"

"Skye", May said as a warning. "Can we discuss what happened for a minute?"

"There is nothing to say. They insulted us, and I wanted to hit them, nothing more, and nothing less. Maybe they are right after all, maybe I'm an animal."

She got up to leave. May tried to hold her by the arm, but Skye broke free of her grip.

"Skye..."

"Don't touch me!"

She ran away. She picked up her things in the changing room and went out, despite Jemma trying to talk to her. She quickly changed into the toilet and left the building. Not fast enough, since Jemma and Fitz were waiting for her outside. Skye sighed and got ready to go around them, but Jemma hugged her.

"Thanks Skye."

Surprised, Skye returned her embrace, feeling the tears rising. She held them back. Jemma broke away, eyes clouded.

"Thank you for standing up for me."

"Always", Skye promised.

The two girls broke away under Fitz's smile.

"We can say that you don't lack courage", he complimented her. "Or you're suicidal."

Skye laughed, even if her heart was in pain.

"Probably a bit of both", she supposed.

They went to the English room. Mrs. Hill had not yet arrived. But she saw Raina and Heida, in the background and busy pouring out their venom to their friends, probably saying bad things about her, since the group sneered when they saw her. She tensed, feeling her blood boiling in her veins.

"Skye?" Fitz said.

"No. I can't. I'm going to break their hyena mouths if I stay in the same room for more than a second."

She turned around and saw Ward, who had just entered. She felt great relief and rushed towards him, not letting him settle.

"Do you want to cut English class?"

Surprised, he smiled, but his smile faded when he saw her face filled with anger and on the verge of tears.

"What's wrong, Skye?"

"Do you want yes or no?"

He hesitated for a second and then made up his mind.

"Come with me, I have a cool place to show you."

Skye huffed, glad he agreed, and followed him, slipping her hand into his ... under the green jealous gaze of Raina who watched them leave the classroom.


	8. Chapter 8

They didn't talk. Ward just shook Skye's hand in his as he led her down the halls until they left the building. The cold air swept across her face, unravelling the wrinkles of anger that wrinkled her forehead, and she took a deep breath. She followed her friend behind the main building, to a fairly high and old wall, since the stones were blackened by time.

"Wow", Skye quipped with a sidelong smile, "I'm so im-pre-ss-ed by what you wanted to show me, Ward.

He laughed and let go of her hand to look around, checking that they were alone. Then he took off and jumped. As he was tall, his hands reached the top of the wall and he hoisted himself up by the force of his arms. He sat astride and motioned for her to join him. Her anger and sadness forgotten, she shook her head, giggling.

"Are you crazy? It's too high, I'll never get there!"

"Never say never. If you say you are going to fail, then you will fail. I want you to trust your body and try. Come on."

She sighed but approached and jumped in turn. She managed to touch the top of the wall, but not to grab it. Fortunately Ward grabbed her arms and managed to hoist her up; she helped him by pushing against the wall with her feet. Arrived at the top, she breathed.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He jumped carefully to the other side and landed in a squatting position. He turned around and held out his arms to her.

"Jump", he said, "I will catch you."

Skye nodded and walked over to the edge before gently pushing with her arms to drop gently. He took her by the waist and put her on the floor.

"I present to you my secret garden!" he exclaimed, stepping aside and opening his arms to a theatrical movement.

Skye smiled and looked around. They were in a huge abandoned park. The dry grass was very tall and curved in the whistling wind, like the frail branches of the emaciated trees, some of which were dead. In the center of the place, Skye distinguished an old damaged playground: an iron and wooden turnstile, a large slide whose green and blue paint had flaked over time, some wooden iron climbing games and ropes, and the inevitable swings, oscillating under the pressure of the wind, and whose iron chains creaked. If the place could seem gloomy and a little sinister, Skye appreciated the curious atmosphere which reigned there. You felt like you were out of the world.

"It's amazing", she whispered without looking at her friend.

She felt him smile next to her.

"Isn't it? Come on!"

He took her hand and led her to the playing field. She let herself go and sat down carefully on one of the swings. The device creaked and she frowned.

"Are you sure it will hold?" she asked him.

"Sure and certain!" he said, leaning on one of the iron poles, which made him look more ... leaning than normal. "I've been there dozens of times to escape the stuffy atmosphere of the school, and nothing has ever given in."

Skye nodded and took the iron chains in her hands. The cold touch of the metal made her shiver slightly, but she enjoyed that feeling. She began to sway gently sideways as she pushed to her feet, her eyes scanning every bit of Ward's secret garden. From here, she could see the tallest buildings in their school, but luckily the one behind the wall was one of the smallest. Having only a few classrooms (which were more to their right), she was certain that almost no one could see them. The other buildings were further away.

All at her observation, she jumped when she felt two hands gently push her back. She gave a little cry before relaxing and letting Ward push her up into the air, higher and higher. Each time she watched the sky come and go, and she felt like she was flying. The wind was getting lost in her hair, and despite the cool temperature of October, she loved it. She laughed, and her laugh was swallowed by the breeze, which also took away all her worries. She relaxed and decided to enjoy the moment.

"Trip, the music!" Melinda shouted from the kitchen.

In general she was against the raising of voices, but there she did not see how to do otherwise, since she had already moved twice to politely reprimand her son on the volume of his horrible music, and that each time he markedly increased the sound over the minutes, as if his mother were silly and unable to grasp the difference, which in itself was starting to annoy her, especially since she couldn't think with all this din. Phil, who was finishing his day later, was about to arrive and she would need five minutes of calm to take stock of her day and mentally prepare for the orphanage. She was already pretty tired like that, she didn't need another headache today.

She sighed, well aware that her oldest son didn't hear her, or that he deliberately turned a deaf ear. She finished wiping the dish she was holding and put it on the counter. She left the room and noticed her two slumped daughters on the couch, headphones in their ears. She rolled her eyes: they had both refused to get up the last two times, and she had no time to fight, either over her son's music, or over how to convince her daughters to succeed in making him lower the sound durably. She needed a more effective solution. She stood in front of them and motioned for them to take off their headphones, which they did. They winced when their brother's music attacked their ears.

"Natasha darling, Bobbi darling, far is it from me to change your behaviour and occupation for the next fifteen minutes, but let me share some very important information with you", she said, fist on her hip.

She stayed silent to spare the suspense and Bobbi smiled, amused by the tone used by her mother, who found it difficult to keep her seriousness.

"What info?" Natasha got impatient.

"This one: the one of you who succeeds in ensuring that your brother's music stays at a decent decibel level, until your father and I leave for our meeting, will have the right to choose what to order for dinner."

As expected, her two previously supposedly exhausted daughters turned into mini-tornadoes. Natasha leaped out of the sofa.

"Pizza!" she shouted, rushing up the stairs, followed shortly after by Bobbi.

"Italian!" Bobbi retorted.

Melinda shook her head and went back to wiping the dishes. She had to wait only a few seconds before the music simply stopped. The welcome silence was immediately followed by an indignant cry and then a series of protests, but not as loud as the damn music, which suited her perfectly. There was now enough space in her head for her to think about what was really bothering her.

First of all and not surprisingly, Skye. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about the teenager that puzzled her. Although she had only been there for three days, she could feel that she was not like most of her students; even if, theoretically, all of her students were different. But there was just something about Skye that was new to her, and at the same time didn't seem so foreign to her. Only she couldn't figure out what it was. She was probably too impatient and too quick to torture herself about it. She had to leave time for time and not focus too much on her new student. She had to step back. She smiled when she thought that it was usually her husband who has to take a step back from his students.

Then there was the Sainte-Agnes orphanage, where they had a meeting in an hour and a half. Although it was less than an hour from their home, they had only recently heard of it through the Internet. When they had considered adopting a new child, she and Phil learned that the orphanage where Trip and Natasha came from had been relocated. So they inquired and came across this place. On the few photos available on the site (very poorly arranged elsewhere), the exterior did not look good and seemed dark and austere. In itself, it didn't matter to her, only that she liked having everything under control, and the idea of having to refer to strangers in their new adoption process - a process that was already sufficiently complex when you knew employees of the orphanage, so with a completely different administration she did not even imagine - stressed her. She knew she had no reason to worry, but she didn't want document and administrative management problems to hinder and slow down their case. She wanted to be able to bring back a child with them early enough, and didn't want to spend the next hundred evenings getting around the paperwork.

The dark-haired woman was so deep in thought that she didn't hear her husband coming, and inevitably jumped when he wrapped his waist around her and kissed her on the neck. She relaxed and turned around.

"What were you thinking about?" Phil asked her, looking at her tenderly.

She shrugged, putting a grin on her face.

"Nothing, I was busy waiting", she replied.

He squinted but didn't insist. A loud noise from upstairs diverted their attention.

"Is it war, upstairs?" Phil asked, smiling widely and helping his wife to put the dishes away.

"Yes", May explained, I had to bribe the girls to get rid of the music from Trip.

Coulson laughed slightly, shaking his head, then half recovered his seriousness.

"Speaking of children, Trip told me there was alcohol at their little party yesterday."

His outraged tone made Melinda laugh. Phil crossed his arms.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"Nothing. It's too cute, that's all."

"What's so cute?"

Melinda casually threw her cloth over the counter.

"You, who live in the world of little pink Bears and who seriously believes that teens at a party do not drink a drop of alcohol."

"Mel!" he protested. "They are much too young for that!"

His wife rolled her eyes.

"They are sixteen. Bobbi has her license and a car, and Trip will soon pass it. They're no longer babies, Phil. They're tall, responsible, and they should be trusted on things like their drinking."

"They will always be my babies", he protested.

"I'm not saying the opposite", Melinda laughed, "but if you stifle them for fear that they will think outside the box, they will only go out to annoy you."

Phil shook his head, an enigmatic smile on his lips, and looked at his wife.

"What?" She said.

"Nothing, I'm lucky to have you, that's all."

Melinda smiled too and approached to kiss him furtively, then she looked at her watch. It was almost five o'clock. She pointed it out to her husband and they prepared to leave so as not to arrive late. Putting on their coats, Melinda called their children to warn them of their departure. Bobbi tumbled to the head.

"Italian!" She shouted, making the V for victory.

Natasha and Trip followed, falsely sulky. Phil laughed.

"Ok", he said, "order for half past eight, we should be back. And be wise while waiting for us. Trip, Natasha, you must listening to Bobbi, is that clear?"

"Why?" Trip protested. "We are the same age!"

"Certainly", Melinda intervened, "but level responsibility,…"

She didn't bother to finish her sentence and Bobbi laughed, sneering. Melinda and Phil left the house and headed for their car. Once on the road, Phil tackled what Trip had taught him about Skye, namely her presence yesterday evening, which worried May as much as he did. She also thought they should watch Grant Ward's attitude towards her (especially that she was having a lot of trouble with this turbulent and provocative teenager), but on the contrary, she was totally against the idea of talking to Skye's parents feeding problems of their daughter; it was enough to refer to today's incident at the gymnasium (which she told Phil in broad outline so that he understood her point) to understand that Skye very quickly felt trapped when adults tried to talk about her. In short, they had to wait. If her condition deteriorated, then there they would intervene.

Skye felt the cool breeze touch her face and shivered. The air was getting colder. She yawned and opened her eyes, slowly undoing the sleeping blanket that had swept her away earlier, as she lay in the grass with Ward. She slowly opened her eyes, and her gaze fell on her friend, who seemed to be asleep. They were both lying on their sides, and therefore face to face. She watched him for a moment: when he slept, he was peaceful, and his face relaxed, no longer sporting the mask of arrogance, self-confidence and impassiveness that he almost always wore. In a way, she preferred him like that.

She stretched and got on her back to watch the sky. Many white clouds were moving slowly. She amused herself by guessing shapes in it, while stifling a new yawn. She couldn't remember when she fell asleep. After enjoying themselves for a long time on the swings and then on the climbing games, they decided to settle down for a moment and lay down next to each other in the comfortable grass. They talked about everything and nothing, then observed the sky. She must have dozed off soon after because of her lack of sleep ... and she had no idea what time it was.

Totally awake now, she sat down and gently shook her friend.

"Ward, wake up," she said to him in a low voice.

He groaned and woke up almost as early. He straightened up, his eyes still a little vague.

"What time is it?" She asked him.

He yawned and took out his cell phone.

"Almost 4 p.m.", he said.

"Shit!" Skye swore.

She got up and ran to get her bag near the swing. Casually, she should have already returned to the orphanage.

"What's the matter?" Ward worried, standing up to join her.

She shouldered her bag, shaking her hair so it wouldn't get caught in the suspenders.

"I was supposed to come home just after school."

"Why ?" He wondered.

"Uh ... because I have a medical appointment not long ago", she lied. "I really have to go."

"Okay. Do you want me to accompany you?"

Skye froze for a second then smiled at him.

"No, don't bother you. I don't live very far and I really have to trace."

For half a second she was afraid he would insist, but he nodded as he retrieved his bag.

"Ok. Be careful anyway, it would be a shame if you get run over."

She stuck out her tongue and he laughed softly.

"Thanks for the moment, it was really great", she said to him after regaining her seriousness.

"Do you feel better then?" He asked, looking worried.

"Yes, much better thanks to you."

He led her back to the wall again, but this time he leaned on a rocky promontory just high enough so that he could look carefully over the wall to see if anyone was nearby. When he was sure they would be quiet, he helped her to the other side. Skye felt a little sad to have to return to the real world, but she hid it. They left the building.

"See you tomorrow", he greeted her.

She nodded, biting her lower lip, then asked without looking at him:

"Do you think we can come back another day? In your secret garden?"

"When you want", he replied immediately. "You can even go without me: it's our secret garden now ... Finally, you can go if you have enough muscles to pass the wall without me, of course!"

She laughed as she looked up.

"OK it's cool."

She hesitated but stepped forward and hoisted herself on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you for everything", she said, stepping back, her cheeks pink. "See you tomorrow!"

She turned on her heels quickly so as not to see his reaction and activated the step to cross the road, the thoughts relieved by the good time they had spent together. Even the punishment that could await her at the orphanage for arriving late failed to tarnish her mood.

Melinda slammed the door when she got out of the car, which Phil had parked in the parking lot in front of the orphanage. She had hardly left when the children's cries were already reaching her. She smiled sweetly as she saw several groups of children and teenagers playing in the distance. Phil joined her on their side and they looked at the building, noting that the photos they had seen clearly represented reality. The building was old, austere, dark, damaged, so many adjectives running through their heads at the moment. The orphanage where they adopted Natasha and Trip was much more welcoming and better maintained than this one.

"It might be better inside", Phil said, smirking a little that couldn't hide his concern.

"I doubt it", Melinda murmured, nodding to tell him to look to the right.

He turned his head to follow her gaze. A little boy had approached a few yards to retrieve an old discoloured balloon that had rolled up the trunk of a large tree. The child must have been eight or nine years old; he was of medium height but seemed rather thin and wore old clothes with holes and twice too big for him. The couple watched the other children. Even if they were all further away, they could see that many were in the same dress as the little boy.

"Where did we fall, Phil?" Melinda said sadly. "Look at them!"

Phil opened his mouth, as dismayed as she was. Even though Trip and Nat did not have masses of clothing from the time they lived in the orphanage, the clothes they owned were in fairly good condition, not stained and ripped third-hand clothes. Likewise, they had always had enough to eat, which did not seem to be the case for most of these children.

Their dismay only increased when they entered the building. They would have thought they were in one of those horror movies that Natasha loved to watch behind their backs. They were in a large hall with cracked walls and mouldy in some places. The room separated into several dark corridors, which the light from the dirty windows could not light, and the floor was of an indefinable colour. Melinda noticed three things: there were no children's drawings or decorations hanging on the walls, except for several crucifixes here and there; long neon tubes were fixed at regular intervals to the ceiling, the lighting must have dated from the last century; there were no covers on the electrical outlets, which could be very dangerous for young children, as were the many old and broken toys she could spot in the trunks of a room on the left. Some seemed so old that she would not be surprised to find asbestos in it, since it was still allowed not too long ago. She grabbed the sleeve of Phil's jacket.

"I know", he said in an altered voice taking her hand.

A sister passed by and noticed their rigid posture. She approached, smiling.

"Hello can I help you?"

Melinda didn't answer, just staring at her. Phil smirked.

"Hello. We have a meeting, with sister... Anne, I believe."

"Of course! You are sir and madam Coulson, I suppose?"

"Yes", Melinda said, stopping to detail the place, "but I kept my maiden name. I'm Melinda May, and my husband, Phil Coulson."

The young woman nodded.

"All my excuses. I am Sister Mathilde. Sister Anne is in discussion with one of the children. You can sit in the meantime if you wish."

She pointed to a sitting area across from a desk with the door closed and the curtains drawn. There was a sofa and a set of worn but comfortable chairs, and a coffee table in the center, covered with magazines. Phil thanked the young woman and they sat down. The next moment, they heard an argument a little further. Sister Mathilde left them with a small smile.

"She seems nice", Phil noted, looking around, worried.

They didn't have to wait very long. A few minutes later, the office door opened on a sad, empty-eyed little boy of seven or eight years of age. An austere woman came out after her and called out to a Sister who was passing by to take care of the child; she took his hand and walked away gently with him. The woman turned to them and smiled at them. It was a distant smile, like everything else about her. She introduced herself as Sister Anne, and invited them to follow her.

After twenty minutes of exhausting racing, Skye finally arrived at the orphanage. She slowed down as she reached the pediment of the building, took a deep breath to calm the beating of her heart, and entered. Fortunately, the door to Sister Anne's office was closed: the old witch must have been there. Skye smiled and went to put her things in her room. She hid her sweater with her precious things in the cache: she no longer wanted to hide it in the tree because she found it smelly in the morning and that it was frozen. Coming out, she almost hit Sister Mathilde.

"Oops!" she apologized with a big smile that the young woman did not return.

"Skye", she scolded, "you're late, and Sister Anne knows it. You're still going to get a behaviour report!"

The teenage girl shrugged.

"It will be neither the first nor the last, far from it!"

Sister Mathilde rolled her eyes and shook her head without managing to suppress a small smile.

"So avoid looking for trouble. You have just returned. If I were you, I would show up in Sister Anne's office as soon as she is alone, with a very good excuse for my delay. As I know you, you should have no trouble finding a justification."

Skye nodded.

"I'll do it, I promise."

"Good", Sister Mathilde concluded Sister. "With that, I leave you, I still have a lot of work."

Skye greeted her and watched her walk away. She decided to act on her advice and quickly found an excuse to bamboozle the viper who served as their steward general. She went down the stairs, avoiding the places where the steps were damaged. She stopped suddenly when she entered the hall, and opened her eyes wide. Madame May and Monsieur Coulson were leaving Sister Anne's office. She imagined with fright that they had learned from Mr. Fury, the director of the school, that she was an orphan, and that they had decided to see Sister Anne, probably to tell her about the "fight" of this morning in the gymnasium. Hello trouble! She barely had time to panic when she heard the old skin address her teachers:

"Your file seems to me to be in order; it's also one of the best I've ever seen. Social worker reports portray you as an ideal family. I have no doubt that you will be able to bring happiness to the child you decide to take in. If that's okay with you, we'll work out the details next week, and I'll start showing you some of our little ones' files."

Skye's fear suddenly dropped and she remembered that Trip had told her that he was the adopted son of her teachers. They were there because they wanted to adopt another child. Hidden by the shadowy corner in which she had taken refuge, she looked at the two adults with a new look. She had no doubts that they must be great foster parents. It was enough to be convinced of it to see the obvious happiness and good physical condition of Trip. She noticed that Mr. Coulson's smile seemed less natural than usual, and that Ms. May was struggling to contain her anger. Perhaps despite the last sentence of Sister Anne, who looked most encouraging, their meeting did not go as they wished? If that was the case, she was sad for them: they were incredible and deserved that their approach goes for the better.

She was out of her thoughts when she saw her teachers go out. Sister Anne returned to her office. The time had come to face the dragon. She stepped forward and knocked on the door, which was still ajar.

"Mary Sue. Come in."

She obeyed, grimacing at her "name" and closed the door.

"You're late", the Sister noted. "Can I know where you were?"

"I got lost", Skye lied in a neutral tone. "I don't know the way well yet and I got the wrong street at one point."

Sister Anne watched her for a moment attentively, as if trying to guess if the teenager was telling her the truth; Skye didn't let anything show through and didn't look away.

"This will be fine this time", the woman said. "You will be careful next time."

"Yes, Sister Anne."

She went out, suppressing her broad smile.


End file.
